tastes like regret and lavender and June beach sand.
it involved an idea of more than I crammed into a moment
and Elizabeth called out to me, "Earth's crammed with Heaven".
I believed her
until the tiny bits and pieces floated away. wings crushed by my (I thought) brutal tender hands.
Perfection until Tuesday.
There's a wiff of golden dust on my palm's lifeline, all that's left.