kitschy

In the beginning,
everyone looked like faded crystals.
Dusty brown rose covered cheeks,
gossamer lips, celestial tongues.
Everyone was a lover.

Head wounds grew flowers,
the sky sighed in purple
and ribs were just pure quartz.
(They never broke, just bruised
a bit now and then).

Language was a fluid thing,
just vibrating vocal chords.
There was no need call out,
spread the gossamer and
open the tongues.

The universe is waiting
for a second invitation.