Plain sight

I’ve been hiding in plain sight; Under white gazebos that blow over in the slightest gust of wind and in between the flowers that look like they’re made out of porcelain and have been painted with acrylic and a steady hand. You, with your straw hair and irises that break at the edges. Three burning candles and a flicker of something I haven’t thought of a name for yet. You, with it in the palm of your hand and cracked finger tips all the same. Me, floating above, sitting off centre and crossed legged. 
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