I am stardust.

Rose pink, sky blue, neon green. I am what’s left of a shattered prism that clings to your lips, a cloud of kaleidoscopic diamond dust. I am the light in the air that highlights your smile. I am the celestial confetti to frame your face.

You try, but can’t catch me.

Soon, I’ll find myself on solid ground. I’ll land with a gentle touch, a tender end. I’ll be dust, then. Debris to be swept under the rug with the bits of dead skin and fragmented, broken insect wings.

But in the free fall, I am stardust.


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