She doesn’t leave breadcrumbs, no.

Her trails are littered in fragmented blossoms, her footsteps bleed petals of crimson and gold.

There’s an intricate scent that lingers in her wake. It’s something sweet. It’s something not.

They follow her everywhere, crawling along the petal-coated ground and grasping at crimson and gold. It’s pitiful. It’s pathetic. It’s wholly and utterly expected.

She hears them, she feels them. She knows they’re dedicating their entire lives to sweeping the floor in her shadow, gathering up her delicate debris like they’re rubies and diamonds and pearls.

It’s a shame that they’re not.

She feels nothing.

She never turns around. 


28 thoughts on “Trails

      • Oh, wait – did I put this on the wrong post (checks). No – it’s on the one with the cute bum (yours? he asked cheekily) not the one with the intoxicating glass. Sorry to make you blush (of you don’t like it) but happy to make you blush (if you do). πŸ™‚


      • Three blushes? Uh-oh, that can’t be good!
        Totally loving that composition. The grace and elegance of the figure, the swoop of the petals and flowers. I’ve decided to call it exquisite.
        Here’s a funny thing – you know how when you use a smartphone it suggests the next word? Well, it suggested ‘exquisite’ at the same time that I thought of it. Uncanny. πŸ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

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