All that she was, is, will be.

confabulation \kon-FAB-yuh-lay-shuhn\, noun:
(Psychology) A plausible but imagined memory that fills in gaps in what is remembered.

A new word that i learnt today. Psychology majors take note.

She

The ceiling fan spun shadows across the room,
Foreshadowing what's to come,
Premeditated but never articulated.
Every crack in the concrete is a regret.
A regret of yesteryears,
Of indolent haste and folly.
Each windowpane reflected back,
A slightly different angle of the room.
Maybe all the change we need and crave,
Is a matter of perspectives.

There she spied a hideous sight,
A rubbery slinky creature of the shadows,
And she screamed.
Ran across his path,
And he crossed the path of her lingering scent.
There is a reason for everything;
The reason for rain is rain.
We should not fear what we do not understand.
Even though the initial fear is attenuated,
The memory continue to ameliorate the doubts.

Though dead tired,
She realized she is still alive.
The mirror is her only friend;
It mouths the words she wants to hear,
Yet never speaks.
"One is growing up repeatedly."
Sometimes we doubt ourselves,
And all our past decisions,
Yet somehow we forge on,
Resigned or willingly.

Vision determines the view.
The solemn flickering effects,
Of not knowing what you're doing,
Is all too familiar.
No one is absolutely certain.
Nothing is undeniably infallible.
We shouldnt be too hard on ourselves.
A gentle tease,
Might lift that fog,
And reveal a timely rainbow.

Unseen and just heard,
Makes it all hard to remember.
Confabulation and figments,
Dictates all that transpired.
Let's just say that every possibility waits,
For that opportune moment,
One merely has to turn around in order to see.
"What might be?"
It's Present unfolds a Future,
Irreducibly imperceptible.

Like the life of a child.

Life is hopelessly frayed,
All loose ends.
When we see lightning,
We wait for thunder.

Pretty is as pretty does.
And so is she.