It is Inspiration

Inspiration. 

	 Flower's dust 
	 impregnates 
	 the flavor 
	 of my sweet 
	 memories, 
	 it tastes so  
	 colorful 
	 I feel 
	 I could die. 

Inhalation. 

	 I begin to understand
	 the reason I exist, 
	 and in such delirium 
	 my body rests. 

Exhalation. 

	 Color spreads 
	 I am made of sugar,
	 and as heat melts my heart 
	 I become cotton candy,
	 flower umbrellas, 
	 and merry rain. 

Inspiration, 
	 and it starts 
	 all over again.