Gradually, the demands lessened. Content in the darkness, I opened my heart. My eyes heavy, I could no longer feel him.
He is careful of us, next to each other, overexposed in sheets. Our bodies touching and visible between tongues of flame. With an anguished expression, we intended to burn.
I’m afraid of smiles like drugs and red roses. I’m afraid of hand-me-downs, laundered with love, and worn white carpets. I’m afraid of beautiful memories, rusted and broken. I’m afraid […]
Uncomfortably cold, she didn’t sleep. She was on her knees, beside the fireplace. The bright warmth of fire and stars made her want to cry. Burning, she shuddered. The heat […]
Endless winter, a curious mixture of ghostlike grace, the dark, and patient cold. Their clothes soaked. Shivering, she found the feeling like turning her back on god.
Wandering in veins, a residue of passion. Our bones remember temping fruits, ancient trees with a knowledge of good and evil. You are here to drink your fill.
Fire glistens until my eyes crack, wet soaking the sky. The morning sun drinks the burnt parts of my soul, like water. My lips, painful so afraid this burning will […]
They are both drunk and she never sleeps. She wanted him against the pillows. Struggling, he didn’t seem to know he was so cold. She could see things. His heart, […]
You exist pinned to the mirror while letters pile up like time and birthdays.
The world is horrible and life is beautiful spoken in the same breath that breathes dark beside light. In comfort, he told me poetry composed the world.
I loved and I believed all my happiness revolved around his dance his kiss his hands his touch. The air smelled of sunlight and I didn’t want to be here.
It was time to recognize courage. She had always dreamed in blood and death, but her story would find people still believe in ghosts and do not suffer a corpse.
Behind the glass is frigid ice and wind, entwined in silhouettes, shadows, and the blue veins of pale skin; translucent marble, a polished winter.
We first brought possessions unspecified like a disastrous life, shifting the balance unalterably. School as easy as girlfriends and gossip; a constant ebb and flow of vapid and dull sex […]
I had been invited, doubtless and determined to tell untrue stories about life after death. No one felt shame for the passing of time.
Something so depressing and deadly serious inside your witchcraft. A voice, hushed and quiet plenty scared and the same feeling as kisses and drugs.