79: Au

Saturated for a higher expense. 

Soft, as they say, compared to her siblings

who are too pale to hold a diamond 

except on wedding days, 

when Silver blends into dress and diamond equally. 

I collected imitations when I was young 

in the form of the cheap chains that entice every eleven-year-old

near the cash register of a Forever 21. 

I don't know if those metals are also soft, 

or if they snap in half when I break them. 

There is only one way to find out, but I must save these pieces

before my elementary cousin doubles the payment on the same product. 

It's always looked tacky against my skin. 

The yellows blending but clashing. 

I am one with the art, but she only lurks in the shadows of the sun. 

She reflects the star in a heap of white light 

and just when the star goes down, 

I gaze at the sea, seeing my tinted reflection. 

A useless mirror if it shows only a different color of eye

and not the true canvas of iris, 

painted over the years with cries of happiness and pain. 

The stuff of princess dreams is what haunts me though. 

Among the idolization, I cannot imagine a palace ballroom any other way.

Not fully coated like a waterfall, 

but little bits here and there

to find with a lover in the middle of the river of a room 

where blue dresses of all shades flow in nature's language

to the tune of ones and two and threes. 

Perched on the mezzanine, 

watching the water flow, 

I realize that all gold will ever be is a box where we hide our dreams.