yes how fitting that she is what she is
inescapable and terrorized by what she is
and tries on deaf ears to illustrate that color is terror
when it fades, and when it breaks

how fitting that she left the winter in her wake
how fitting that she didn't feel it following her, shadowed, sinister

that one word gaining myth and momentum as we go (and we go, and we go)
it does not define itself; how fitting her frenzy to define it
in the inherent vacuum where it cannot breathe

how fitting that she stumbled and reversed the seasons
and that orange blends with autumn ground but not with april
and when it fades, and when it breaks
it isn’t ever overlooked
or forgotten