Amelia breathes into her sugar coated lungs.
Inhaling pieces of cotton candy.
Though she only eats cotton balls.
Her birthday was yesterday.
Instead of a party,
She ate a plum.
We sat in my backyard, her gilded fingernails exposing the yellow flesh inside the fruit.
The same which happened to her.
We spoke in eloquent words that day.
Only uttering prophecies and philosophies into the wind.
She broke that day.
And cried for the first time in seven years.
At exactly 3:21 a.m.
When the stars were their brightest, a present only Amelia could derive from the night sky.
Where had the plums gone?
All lay,
On the too green grass,
Rotted through to the core.
And that's when I knew me and Amelia held the most power ever entered into the universe.
After all was stolen, we found the beauty in the nothingness of it all.
