i met someone made of air, who writes songs made to play at the end of a movie where they drive off into the sunsets.

i am becoming water colored, and the pink of my lips melts into my porcelain skin. but we are all water, the element of poseidon, and the salt of the sea.

the boy made of air whisks me away, and i torpedo all my doubt so i am the only thing still floating, the only thing left in the wreckage of the past.

and i need the sun now,

i know three things:
a. when i brush my hair stardust seems to fall out, i am part supernova.
b. i am not the person i was yesterday, nor last week, nor last year. i have bloomed from the water meant to drown me, and no i don't want to talk about it.
c. i want to disappear. quietly, and hopefully unnoticed, this is for the best

and maybe i will disintegrate one day because every particle of my being was once dust and i can go back. and this is fine and i am content because my dust will mix with the boy made of air and i will live in the sky.