wood sage and sea salt.
She was
daisy;
light and free.
She feels the calluses on her hands--
sees the scars on her face
their webs of flesh.
She now
a memory
of pastel softness--
girl of tender
skin or was it petals?
He
Was freshly showered sandalwood.
Smoothed and crisp,
deep and smoldering.
He
Would be her fire--
crackling light.
Even after the rain
there is still smoke.
There is still ash.
She
became
brittle bark
and cracked mineral rock.
She--
no longer euphoria
of cotton candy clouds.
She became
woman
earth, rubble.
Wood sage and sea salt is
too harsh now--
her many edges
are too sharp
for sandalwood flesh.