Newness

If I had newness to me it would be slickery not round and soft as it was when I was alive. The breath would rise and fall in a smooth white chest and the heart would beat ... ah yes, just beat in its red, blurting strength.
But I digress, if I had newness I would not have warm smiling children and lovers of half-breed darkness. I would live in a city, tall and cold so as not to be harmed by matters of the heart.
It is the earth, the soft warm earth which was my downfall. The smell of the quiet brown sucked me under and my children, covered in leaves were first before I loosed them in the waves, drizzles, flow.