Extremities

She was almost a
Bit too much like
Autumn- whenever
You loved her just right,
She started to fall back again.

She was almost a
Bit too little like
Home- she didn’t
Offer stability or warmth,
She couldn’t be your scaffolding.

She was almost a
Bit too moderate like
Lemonade- always swirling
With the suppressed tang which
She defined herself with.

She was almost a
Bit too much full
Of herself, and later, when
Alone she would go to the
Orphanage every Sunday.

She was almost a
Bit too little known
To you, to me, and even
Herself, that none could
Save her from her own misery.

They said she was afraid,
And I think, like you do too,
That she wasn’t- she was
Just too perplexed of existing
In a parallel universe with who
She thought she was, and who
She thought she couldn’t be.