the clouds are breathing in time with me and the air is gray.
every tree i see, i envision myself, twigs hanging onto branches and swaying in the wind.
the wind is purple. the wind is hard and thick and i feel it in my vertebrae.
and you are the flowers in my grandmother's garden, so familiar and so lush. i've never seen something so alive. i watch you grow and bloom, but one day you will wilt and dry out.
and one day my twigs will break and fall to the ground and the wind will carry me away.
