t-writes-poems

her skin moans at its stitches, she wants to drag the syllables like a waterfall in slow motion-- there are lines down your wrists So you learnt to hide your hurricanes, you are a tangle of past lives and defense mechanisms. breathe: we've been wearing each other like shreds of fingerprints, i fed you cracked mortar and the filmy photographs of us. don't you dare count the rings around your gaunt little saturn-boy-- it took a thousand paper planes and a flock of vultures for the word "cathartic" to perch in your throat.