Done, ends stitched in a seam—set to be worn over yourself. A stain so bright, you sparkle. Too far forward to flip. The sipper, the straw, the soda. Bleeding ink every blink, but still brimming. Ripped apart like a rainbow. A love letter to life still in the works.
So dead you’re divine. Only visible in the love-light. Weird as a plant that bites the bully, as a phlox sprouting through sand. Wingless like wind, fin-less like a fluid. Lost but listening to your own heart. Found.