When you cup your hands to rinse the toothpaste from your mouth and the suds rise all around you in little spheres of perfection, a perfectly manicured nail breaks the golden sunlight, exploding your rainbow into nothing so when you bring your forehead up and see the blur that once was your reflection, you find yourself being suffocated by the breeze composing your very essence, and in between gasps you try not to exhale the life you used to live.
Eyes of the muse on flickr

Eyes of the muse on flickr

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