My lashes
crystallized with salt,
I floated black
on orchid perfume.
The sky broke.
Bits of charcoal
fell like fire.
I watched
tourists scramble
from underneath
the sky
as I sat
on splinters
finishing your memory.
Now, my spine crackles
like dried flowers
pressed between
brown scrapbooks;
remembering
what it was like
to be green.
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