Another hand releases. Stars fall from her fingertips and fade to dust before they hit the ground-- while wind drinks the light.
Thirsty roses once bloomed shatter. Brittle flakes scatter with the clouds, and thorns protrude, stab the stars to drink.
Flourished when rain falls like lights and strikes her palms. She gulps water cleansed by sky.
Gathers stars inside her skin
Photo: Thomas Wright [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
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whoa. baby. So many good lines here! The wind drinks the light is probably my favorite. And this writing could mean so many different things! I'm wondering what was on your mind as you wrote it, or should I say, as you painted it.
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