THE FAIRY DOESN’T FRACTURE ANYMORE

A being no longer defined by distortion—but by design.

I used to shrink when wonder left,
When joyless rooms stole all my breath.
I zipped my wings and dimmed my light,
To make the silence feel polite.

But not this time, and not this place—
I walk with stars upon my face.
I bring my oils, I bring my stone,
I bring the self I've always known.

I do not bend to be believed.
I do not fracture to be received.
I travel whole, with spine of gold—
A fairy true, a story told.

I carry joy inside my coat,
With giggles caught inside my throat.
A Time Machine? Of course it’s near—
I pilot realms with zero fear.

My mom, she gardens fairies too—
Though she pretends she never knew.
She kissed the Reaper, laughed, and stayed,
And built me wings from vines she laid.

My husband spoke the name “Lilith,”
Not knowing who he tangled with.
The Queen of Fae, alive and bold,
In skin that shimmered, soft and old.

So off I go—no longer torn,
No longer wilted, clipped, or worn.
This fairy’s back. She’s packed with light.
She travels whole. She sleeps at night.

No more disguise. No mask. No door.
The fairy doesn’t fracture anymore.