Fly away.
Your skin a myriad of shades, the deepest tangerine of sunset fading into the cool blues of night fall.
We fly.
You laid there, a cacophonous mess of ivory and ebony hues. You were everything in between. Gold filigree dripped from your eyes, enmeshing you in that perverse jungle of lies.
We fly this way.
Powdered blue was the egg that tumbled from the nest. When it cracked, it spilled forth the ashes you used to paint your lips.
We flew away.
Proudly, you ground the curved coolness of the fading shell into the ground.
Perhaps you flew away.
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