𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑡 𝑑'𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑟

I have moved so far away from you that i have become a myth; a lie you tell yourself each night. I am the one true thing you've held in the palm of your hand, the key to everything you wanted.

Your name smiles at me from a crumpled envelope, addresed to the past, unsent and unseen. Inside there is a letter where i tell you a story about the moon, how night after night the darkness carved at the pale curve of her body until she became half the woman she was.

There is a word that hurts my heart–one i don't ever say out loud. Like the shadow that lingers in the light, i can't separate myself from your memory. But there are some nights when i look up into the sky, and the moon is whole again.

Her story is not just crimson pomegranates, all of the splendour of springs bends to her will. But this floral maiden also sends shudders of fear with one delicate footstep through all of hell.

She reigns over birth of flowers and gentle beings, raise baby birds in her lap, and with fawns she plays. She reigns over demons and demise alike and before her fury, even Death himself pales.

They won't tell you about how Red Riding was the wolf and Snow White went back to kill the queen. Or that Cinderella's step family mysteriously disappeared after she became queen.

They are afraid to let you know that Aurora woke up screaming because a strange man was kissing her without her consent. Or how Ariel had no problem killing the two timing prince and restoring herself to the sea.

The fairy tales we should tell our daughters should be about strong women with real flaws and incredible qualities.

Lets raise girls who don't just wait to be rescued, but take destiny in their own hands and charge to battle dragons and their enemies.

 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐄