Don't Shout.

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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.