All The Pretty Things

She collected apricot, plum, and cherry blossoms and arranged them on her laptop. She plucked and placed and stared, loving, smiling. They covered her screen so she could not see the manuscript eating her heart. They covered the errors, the potential, and the pooling time pond. They obliterated that which she could not face. So she went out and carefully she checked limbs and blooms, for the most lovely of things. And held them careful, in keyboard bruised fingertips. She smiled and couldn’t see, she was killing the trees.