It's getting warmer

but the leaves on my trees

continue to sway and twist,
rustling
and scrunching up

until they finally break free
and are swirling away
in the wind

and just like that,

my dreams had already drifted
out of my grasp

long before I saw the real world
come into view
for the first time.

There's china on display
in madame Liu's antiques & crafts shop

so delicate and white,

preserved and rooted to
polished wooden boards

like the smile painted on my face
each day

as I glide on glistening needles

and smooth out blistering red hot, black coals,

upturned lips melting feverishly in the sun's glare

until a hurricane sweeps in

and crushes my cheekbones
so I can no longer smile.

There is rain

silver, shimmering, and wet

soaking into rich soil
and work shoes

filling my water reservoir
and feeding my flowers

granting a quenching life to all

like my tears,

blurring the lines on the paper
and making the words swirl

turning tear drops into salt crystals
that ***** my cheeks

leaking into salty oceans and seas,

until a desert heat storm sweeps in
and blasts it all away.