she said like a quivering chandelier, full of edges and light,
"if i stopped breathing,
maybe i could sink into the ground
without dying,
just give up the air and the sky."
and i told her to think of the tree,
any tree, her tree,
with sunlight in its voids.
she paused, bulbs glowing
beneath her crystal skull,
"then the world should only be mine-"
her face was cut and polished sharp
(here i could see she was glass instead of stone,
and i knew she was
full of shifting, wind molded sand)
"ruin is intolerable,
and i won't watch beauty killed."
i smiled, and she cracked,
anger fluxing from between
prism breaks and
furious rainbow glints.
then i told her,
"maybe you're afraid
that the world will still be pretty
once you've withered into dust."