of you, and everything i wanted— of dust and fairy wings, fragile things— of the frost on the trees in winter— of the world. of how i broke, and how i wasn't fixed— of songs and violins. of how you picked me up and dusted me off— of how we were young and in love and alive and us— of love notes and flowers in the spring— of how i started falling out of love— this is me: a fragile, fickle girl with a heart of silver and a mind of steel.