Loveliest

Risen from the ground, I was born a lovely sight. The moment I smelled the new air and held on to the sky, the entire world rejoiced - "The loveliest one," they all said. And when I spread my arms and twirled my white dress, as it unfolded in perfect waves, they nodded and sighed without surprise. When I reached maturity, they told me I was ready. They came back with the guillotine. In a week, I was fully deteriorating. My dress wilted into a sick, greyish yellow, and when I caressed my skin, I felt it dehydrating - the scratch of sandpaper, tearing into strips, unraveling, a loose strand. I was thrown out. They had found another one. I didn't think I would die like this - shrunken, on the grass, morning dew thawing my dress, robbed of its whiteness. I had risen above, only to wither in the dirt, under a dark shadow. I now wonder if I will sink back into the ground, only to produce another new, hopeless, lovely sight. Will they know that her beauty had belonged to me? Will they call her the loveliest?