You deny it. You deny it regardless of the fact that we both know you are lying; you deny the fact that you knew her at all. You deny that it was because of you that she shaved her head when you slapped her in the face with a farewell. She wanted to forget the times when you would pull her hair and force her to do what she pleaded you not to. Any stream of conscious that was of you or related to you was cut out of her life, unlike the cuts along her arms and thighs. These cuts, the ones you never noticed; these cuts were her way of fighting. Her body was a battlefield. Black and blue on her forearms and on her back from previous wars, red coming up to the surface of where you had just hit her. But oh she was fine, you thought. It turns out that makeup and longsleeves and pants can do wonders. Showers were a time for thinking, a time for washing away the guilt. The water never really did the job, however. Like how crying never really made her feel better.
Her hair is now in ringlets, falling softly upon her back like rose petals upon glass. A beautiful pink, it’s long and she loves it and she has not cut it since the day she forgot about you. It’s a reminder of how far she’s come. Porcelain skin kissed by the sun, her scars are fading now. When a child came up and asked her what they were, she murmured to herself, they are scars from when i was a corpse walking alive. But she looked into their eyes with a smile as she took their hand in hers and said, it’s the markings of a warrior. And a warrior she was. She was not ashamed, upon her body her dress rustled against her legs when she walked, and gone were the days of turtlenecks in the summer. A warrior, if they fight long enough after all, lives to become a survivor.
She is a being of light. You deny it, but we both know that you were a being of darkness. Darkness may try to exhume any flame, yet regardless the light will continue to burn no matter how faint.
She is brighter now. She is lovely, she is ethereal, she is full of love. You claim you don’t know her. Yet when the wind whispers oh so slightly against your eardrum, you recognize it when you hear her name.