Terra

There is lighting in her veins. 

Blues and reds and greens. 

Criss crossing along her bones. 

She is sturdy, and solid. 

An unmoving force. 

Reflective and cool, she shines. 

The stars set above her head. 

Her hair is glowing, colours of pinks, purples, oranges and yellows mixing and swirling.

She smiles in the sky, and grins beneath the sheets. 

Pin pricks on her skin, she smooths them down. 

To me, she is a fortress. 

A maze that is solved, yet remains ever changing. 

Although she is strong, she has her demons. 

The bitter frost in her heart. 

Scraping sludge of her own skin. 

How dare we try to remove them?

Ripped holes, burns scatter her skin, she grits her teeth. 

I have walked her ribs. 

Seen her nerves, felt her ice. 

What use is a bandaid on a bullet wound?

We use her muscles as meat, and tendons as toothpicks. 

No more do I see her laugh of greens. 

Or tears of blue. 

The sludge in in her brain as infected us all. 

Or have we infected her?

After all. 

We are the virus. 

Aren't we?