Perhaps a child’s blackberry-stained overalls or a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, stretching its wings in a field of lavender and dreams. Tired, bleary eyes and cheap hair dyes. Concert lights illuminating the smile of a late best friend. Or the birthstone they always wore around their neck. Or maybe the crumpled post-it notes held tightly within a girl’s folder, mangled with ink-stained poems for a lover. A stripe on brazen flags of protest and Pride. Those fearful ribcage bruises and fresh grape juices. The wilting orchids mourning atop a stranger’s grave. Heartburn medication, arrested asphyxiation. Washed-up seashells and wine-stains on a wedding dress. The torn-up handmade quilt and pressed lilac bouquets. A sunset, dancing about a now-empty bedroom. The faint moonlight glowing above roadside wildflowers. Celestial bodies, uncaring and unchanged, drifting, distant and deadly - like blooms of cosmic jellyfish.