My hand drifts across a field of petals,
their skins supple with the breath of life.
They dance alongside the wind, free.
Which do I choose?
The one with the lilac heart?
My hand wraps around her spine;
I whisper my condolences upon her shrine.
Maybe resin does not equal infinity like they say
Perhaps I am suspending a flower in an ocean of always without giving her time to breathe
Without giving her time to live.
So instead, I let her rest on my palm
I simulate wind with my lips, and
I let my breath guide her far away,
Back into deliverance.