Indigo, Amelia's sister of flesh and golden marrow,
And of soul and mind.
Unlike Amelia, her favorite fruit are apricots.
Golden to their core, hit pit, grow a new tree.
Gauzy clouds blurred indigos vision,
Along with her tears, which fell for Amelia more than her.
Gold and green apricots sunned with sap and rusted tears,
Grew that summer, more than any of Amelia's plums did.
Grew, gold, grew, green and rotted.
No one to eat them, for Indigo had given up fruit for it was too sweet to fit her taste.
She took the tragedy a different way, letting fruit fall the floor, spilling sticky sap over too green grass under too blue sky because in Indigo's eyes, everything was grey.
And she lived at the beach, able to feel colors.
The golden sand under her bare feet, icy ocean blue on her salted, raw skin, and emerald ivy crawling up the red rocky cliff side.
Swimming as far out as she could daily, and trying not to drown in the current, letting it carry her down the coast until her name took hold of her body and she became as indigo as the sea she sank in.
Amelia was alone,
With Laila at liability, crying by the oceanside, for Indigo, and from then on, she planted an orchard in her honor.
