The road is lined with cherry blossoms.
Pink princesses waving me onward.
I allow the petals to drift, swift
into the open window of my car
(the one with the engine light I ignore).
They scatter so pretty,
settling upon the dusty signs
of a car full of life: dead skin and fragments
of bitten nails to the quick.
Everything feels soft.
The breeze between my teeth
as I smile and lick my lips
tasting the future I too often doubt
whilst queuing in traffic,
believing my life is just as stop/start.
Everything looks soft.
The petals melt like foam
into my skin; a bubble bath gift,
given and forgotten in but a moment
no matter how deep I sink my fingers in.
Photograph & poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019