With all the resistance and know how, the stars still receded. The shroud she had lifted off her eyes had been cast back over. She pulled it deeper until it covered over her mouth down to her throat, slowly pressing on her ability to inhale. She wanted to be shrouded, to be seen not as she was meant to, but as a ghost among, as her only freedom.
She began removing threads from the cloth, one by one plucking them away from her throat, so she could finally suck in fresh air.
She tore away the shroud over her mouth, releasing not a scream, but her own sound voice surrounding her.
She walked like this, all the words forming their own bridges, their own platforms and joys. All were persuaded without the need to look at the rest.
She would remove her shroud and observe, fixing her eyes on her own...shaking her head to know there is no one in this life that could renounce they're own truth with them the same way she could. And why every morning she put her shroud back over them, hovering over what she knew she wanted to protect, a sense of herself she didn't want anyone to see, because instead of just absorbing and feeding it back, they cast theirs away, and walk away with what you gave them.
One morning upon waking, she knew she would open her eyes to somewhere else's. She opened them to find they were not foreign, they saw into every crevice and valley, all the worlds she hid, these eyes saw, and was able to go in there with her, able to explore the underwater caves where she protects pith, the oxygen free atmosphere she resides to, the desolate vast expanses she hides in.
Those eyes never cast down and took anything, they remained fixed, forever wanting to see more.