Three Wishes

All I hear anymore is the rustle of leaves, the rustle of leaves and the secrets of the wind.

I see you there.

I know you are there.

But I am too scared to present you, you mysterious wind of secrets and sins.

Though I could love you. 

I could give you my all.

But I'm scared. Have you heard? I'm scared of those three words that so many speak in a flutter of overflowing fluster.

I walk alone, my companion, wishing, oh wishing, to release myself, free myself to the secrets of the wind.

Secrets of the wind.

Instead I prefer to be condemned inside a lamp, a genie some say, subject to the wishes of others, chained, restrained. "Three wishes you hear?"

Recoil, retreat.

No one can touch me here. No one can find me here.

Safe as the secrets in the wind, whose only listener is the girl who sways to the rustle of leaves, and grants three wishes to the controllers of the fates.

The girl, that quiet girl who watches a candle flame melt the surrounding wax, barrier of life and memory, and wishes for nothing more than to melt with it all.

The wind. The leaves. The quiet girl. 

Three wishes. Three secrets. Three loves.

One me.

No me, to melt with it all.