I want a coffee cup of colored candy and regrets,
to place my bets
on whether the world will end again when the sun sets

and I'll say to myself
with my life on the shelf
"This is as good as it gets,"

and yet-

the world outside is fresh, wet, and new
slick like a baby sliding from a gray, dying mother
into the dew

and like my blue suede shoe
should be treasured, so I'll try my best
to keep my heart inside my chest

hard-pressed
to make the best
of these dying days

in the gray haze, the mist
that surrounds my nest
and though I'm not sure what to do,

one day, one day
maybe they'll say
"She flew."