The curls cascaded
Down her dainty spine
Allowed to linger

No one was near
There was no need to be modest
No need for fancy hairstyles to frame her petite face
And tickle her razor sharp check bones
So they soften

Her nightgown hung loose and the breeze caused it to shift
And press against her back
Highlighting each individual knob, bump, and ridge
That made her stand up so straight
And sit so pretty

She contemplated closing the window
But decided she like the view the seventh story gave her
She liked to watch the tiny people on the ground
Sometimes she would drop a penny to see how long it would take to hit the ground
And how high up she actually was

Her back was to the window though
Her feet far from the ledge
She stood before the huge oak entrance
Beyond which held freedom but also the unknown
And perhaps regrets

But here there was only emptiness
Like a prison
But richer
Disguised with food and color and the hallucination of perfection
While really only a black and white image lacking everything that matters

So she took a hesitant step forward
And latched onto the doorknob
Clutching as she turned it until she heard a click
And the door was open and the walls were suddenly gone

She stepped a bare foot out onto the cool marble floors of freedom
And shivered
And look back only once before leaving
Before she walked, ran, and escaped
Until all one could see were the
Cascading curls
Trailing behind her