There Are Days, and There are Days

There are days when she barely remembers what it was like to dream. Days when hope seems to be nothing but a far off memory.

She deals in reality.

Deals with facts.

There is only black and white.

Then there are other days.

Rearer days.

On theses days she has belief in what is unseen. Belief in goodness and happily ever afters.

She deals in the unproveable and imaginary.

She sees gray and bright colors.

She is a paradox.

She lives a contradiction.

She belongs to shadows.

Belongs to light.

Belongs to everyone.

Belongs to no one.

Not even herself. . .