Stardust 


I am stardust. 
Pink, blue, neon-green; the sparkling glitter of an explosive prism that clings to your lips. I am the light in the air that highlights your smile. I am the celestial confetti to frame your face.
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 fragments of broken insect wings. 
But in the freefall, I am stardust.

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