Stolen Flowers

remember that time

when you tapped out the rhythm of the bass on my wrist

so that my pulse synchronized with the music 

and traced the lines of sweat down the back of my neck

like chasing raindrops on the windowsill.

the air smelled like

stolen flowers

and your fingernails 

were full of earth.

-The Shutter Muse

And on it goes

Collect the tiniest treasures

and keep them tucked safely in the grooves between your fingers

to remember the fragility of life 

because

despite our brittle bones

when all the beauty has crumbled

crushed in a deity's fist and

 puffed with ballooned cheeks

onto milkweed dancing in the breeze

 

 

the world spins on.