Where She Lives

Sometimes, life shows me glimpses of the girl I used to be.

I see her there,

Close enough to reach out and touch, 

Yet always lifetimes away.

She sees me too.

She holds my hand through all the books that I trace my fingers over,

Watches over me from every star in the night sky,

And grins with pride at every little win.

She is here,

Caring for me,

Searching for me,

Nearly as much as I am for her.

She lives in the bright pigments of my favorite eyeshadow,

Makes the odd appearance in fading bubbles of laughter,

And never forgets what my favorite movie is.

She is always there, 

Waiting by the door with love and a smile

As I put on my shoes.

Her fingerprints are still mine,

But when life feels too close and too real,

When I am hit with the unexpected wave of grief,

It is because I know 

She will never truly leave a mark in the same world that I do.

She is alien to me,

But always my home.