We ran.
And there where puddles that
splashed mud in drops of gold on skin
slithering up and into
our veins.

Up ahead there was a minefield
riddled with flowers.
Blue ones.

And we fell.
We fell so many times
our knees and palms
clad in gold
our minds unable to make
a different mistake.

We cried, yes.
In desperation.
On our knees.
While blue petals
rid from their hearts and stems
floated gently down
and got caught in our hair.
They smelled sweet.

For a while
we lived.
And then.
We died
for a while.
All of us.
We died
when it reached our hearts,
clenched them in
tight unrelenting fists
until the air escaped us
together
with our blood.

We stopped.
Silence.
Nothing.

And yet.

The Gold
wasn't strong enough.
It faltered.
After a while.
We got up
brushing of the mud
untangling the blue.
We inspected the gold on our bodies.
In between
some of us
made more
mines.

And there were puddles.
And up ahead
there was a minefield.

We ran.