The pale orchid slipped.
Slipped through her thin fingers.
Oceanic drops abandoned her ebony eyes.
She binds herself in the cerulean scarf.

A breath.
A breath of the Indian air she knew so well.
A breath of monotonous days she belonged too.

Nostalgia.
Nostalgia engraved in her core.
The essence of obssessed infatuation had soared away.
Her one true passion, absent, across the indigo ocean.
He was hers, she was his.
Their love turned clandestine.
Secrets and an orchid was all she had left.

Doves flirted through the clouds.
Scarlet suns set.
Her body, absorbed in composure, simulated perfection.
Her espresso waves collapsed along her smooth back..
The golden jewls embossed her delicate forehead.

She breath and stares at her forcasted future at the pearl-white alter.
Her mocha skin is soaked with fears.

Orchid petals rain around her.