when she was 8 years old

🌙

hospitals

she thought about all the

flowers left to wither on the

bedsides of those who

exhaled white porcelain

walls and bright lights as

their last breath

am a am ut a hld

i am just a child

boom-boom-boom

went the earthquake in her young chest

the white walls colored

away the blue oceans tenderly

caressing rolling forests in

her mind, a garden labyrinth

once filled with blue

hydrangeas and honeysuckle

kisses fingering the july

sky (but now there were

only thorned branches

choking bleeding white roses)

i am to feel pain like this

oontoo young

sitting in the waiting room

listening to the earthquake in her chest

🌙

2 hours ago

"mother?"

the same perfect shade of blue

oregon blue, peacock feathers

surrounding her pupils

crisscrossed lines of pure

jubilation

blue pills and

blue stained hands

stuffed in blue jeans

tearing at blue seams

everything is so blue

like this year watching the disease rip forests of coal off her scalp and the gleam from her eyes, as if they lost the ability to absorb light and only reflect it like glass spheres revealing an empty mind watching her die everyday and collapse into a dwarf star instead of the supernova that her fire had promised

where are u now,

mother

"roselin," she rasped, coughing between syllables

before she could begin, strange machines began to flash and wail. men and women in white rushed in

mother's face is white like the hospital walls. her eyes search for mine through the waterfall of white coats between us. so far a w a y

what are they doing? where are they taking her? i'm so afraid i can't breathe my breath catches in my throat and i choke out tears but i don't know why i'm crying. i watch as they begin to transport her before suddenly my legs grow command of their own and i'm running through the crowd

i grab her weak hands and it takes so much strength for her to look up

"roselin-" she gasped, "i-i- w-want you- to l-learn how to l-live- i love you, roselin"

"i love you too, mom-"

before i can finish i'm being taken away and i feel so guilty because of all the times i told her that i'd never let go i sob as i'm being taken away i don't know why i'm crying but somehow i can't stop it's as if the whole world is being taken away from me and before i was a rockslide tumbling into a new mountain but now i'm only an avalanche spiraling into a never-ending void and i don't know why but i have a terrible feeling of this as if

🌙

the doctor has a kind, young face

he has blue eyes, like her mother's

white shirt the color of bone

colored pills

she only remembered his last words of the conversation before spiked anemones grew cotton balls in her brain before time slowed down and reversed into a subway train rushing backwards and slowing down to the speed of light before suns collided again and again in a never ending cycle of colliding until it bruised time itself before the walls rotated and swerved like there were earthquakes growing in her knees,

"i'm sorry but your loved one has passed on"