I can be a disciplined piggy bank, a dragon fruit smoothie, blush applied for a holiday celebration. Or, a birthday balloon, aimlessly drifting, yet confined by the ceiling. On occasion, sunburnt skin takes over. Those traces of a time before fluffy cotton candy clouds occupied the sky. I can be a worn eraser, a dead pointe shoe, litmus paper surrendering to acidic conditions. Or, a faded card from Valentine’s Day with thoughts inked only in silence.