Photo from jwolf312 / Licensed under Creative Commons

Based on “Destino” by Walt Disney and Salvador Dali

She woke up with dandelions
Pressing against the forefront of
Her head

White fabric, hugging her small waist. Long black hair, covering her delicate back. Your fingers barely touch her-
Made from the cracks of decaying clay-you wish for one more minute, no, two, maybe three?

Running, running
From the softened mountains birthed from dirt,
The deserted statues, dried and damaged from distraction.
Hop-scotch through the barren sands, ignore the quickly growing presence of abandoned,
concrete playpens.
Hers, it is all hers.
You are hers, and you know it.

Bare skin against seashells with unfamiliar stares
from the eyes polluting sanctuaries she holds close.

The ground took her and him
And all the pieces in between, until the white dress manifests once more
upon her silky body.
Where he holds it so tight,
She folds and folds.

And you fold and fold, sharp shadows hug every curve.

The dandelions return and she wakes in an empty bed.
You have left, just as quickly as you’ve come.
No time for falling in love, my love.
And that is alright. It must be alright.
You were never something she needed.

Her landscapes shift with the beat of butterfly lashes kissing the finitely blue sky.
The faces melt away, the bells ring.
She knows it is okay to let the walls grow old on their own.