She Began To Feel Like

She Was No Longer A Slow Dreamer Watching The Flowers Grow. She Was A Warrior Now. Warriors Need Something To Fight For Though, Beside Their Lives, Because Otherwise Their Lives Will Not Be Worth It.

Sometimes She Wore Levi's With White-suede Fringe Sewn Down The Legs And A Feathered Indian Headdress, Sometimes Old Fifties' Taffeta Dresses Covered With Poetry Written In Glitter, Or Dresses Made Of Kids' Sheets Printed With Pink Piglets Or Disney Characters.

You Are So Intense. Like A Storm. It's Shocking How Intense You Are.

Beauty Loved Him More Than Anything, Her Beast Boy, But, Secretly, Sometimes, She Wished He Would Have Remained A Beast.

The Circus Tent Was Flowing Pale In The Rain Like A Fleshy Flower Lit From Within. It Seemed To Bloom In The Downpour. Drops Of Rain Caught On Rafe's Eyelashes, Blinding Him As The Circus Light Struck Them. He Groped For The Flap, That Slit In The Fabric That Would Reveal Her To Him. She Was On The Rope Again, Her Skirt Flashing With Tiny Mirrors, Hair Braided With Petals. He Looked Up At Her, Dizzy With It, Seeing Her Face Framed In The Parasol. There Were Bluish Shadows Around Her Eyes.