I feel fragile, made of porcelain. Swirl the sugar cube too fast with tea spoon and I may shatter. The smell of dashed cinnamon enough to cause a crack.
Sunshine surrounds me and the rays burn, a touch enough to cause a tear. For my skin has fallen under the same spell. Don't shout or I may crumble.
I can't hear my breath nor lift a limb.
My tears have slowly lifted me into a river, and I float as the Lady of Shalott. Delicately poised.
...dreaming of that Castle...over and over again.