When I was around her
she pulled the colour out of space,
tore the fabric apart, left no trace.
I knew her
inside out,
upside down,
forwards and backwards,
she called the shots,
but I shot the calls.

She liked her anemone,
it was her friend to be
it was buried, caught in a sea
of nettles, but she ripped off all the petals
as easily as
time and space itself.