if the boy who draws
lets you look over his shoulder
if the poet smiles
and shows you her words
if the girl who sings for the shower only
hums a song in front of you
know that you are no longer a person
but the air and dust that fills their lungs
when the world perishes
and all things cease to exist
you'll remain inside an ink stain
a paint brush
a song.
--Alaska Gold
YOU ARE READING
diadem
Short Storyn.: a simple circlet of small jewels; a simple crown // a collection of musings and scribbles and thoughts
