Her pink fingertips
Touch the frayed edges
Of her dress
We would look pretty
In a silver urn
She sings
The branches of the trees
Sway
Happy like an afterglow
It is too early to be gone
I whisper
We must trust the earth
Keep our feet firmly
On the ground
Our skin is doused in sunshine
Better than acid
She seethes
That makes me feel sad
There is no going back
From the damage
I wonder when we will rest
If our final place
Will shine and glow
Like her shoes
Perhaps it is best not to think
She says
Reaching for my hand
Tomorrow we will stitch the edges
Start again
Not end.
