A galaxy paints
my fragile hands
a spectrum of
vivacious color
that even a sunset
just born will envy.

They only glow for
such a small amount
of time, that it's like
seeing a shooting star,
or a lighter's spark ignite
with the naked eye.

I'm left with a thin layer
of crust resembling the earth's
core plastered on my fingertips,
with their jagged edges
and the way they are used
to cutting through skin.

As painful as it is trying to
rid this archaic wonder,
I am not a fossilized relic of myself
left behind for viewers to learn about.
I am just living my life the only way
I know how, as remnants of a lost soul.