missliding
in the night, sometimes, i still hear your mellow-flicker voice in the background of my dreams and turn to bury my face in the crook of my cold, overstuffed pillow.
dig nails between your shoulderblades, puncture soft skin until i curl my fingers around your column-proud spine. dearest, dearest, nearest, i will always, always have your back
(it is mine).
listen in the night for a single word, a single breath that makes every bone sing for joy and oh, please, please let it be him, hope and press your spiteful tongue against the bitter backs of your tombstone teeth.
Her flesh may be sun-bronzed but her heart is as cold as the metal. He brushes his fingers gently on the tanned skin stretched over her collarbones. For a moment it feels as if her warmth is only the left-over radiance from the sun, but she shifts, the long column of her neck arching, oil-dark hair spilling over the linen, and smiles as bright as sunlight reflecting off a glacier. He melts into her.
She glares at me. The wind sweeps her hair across her face like a long, snarled net but her eyes, grey as storm-tossed waters and the sky before torrential rain, meet mine unflinchingly.
when they hold their hands to the night sky and squint, in the gaps between their fingers she can see the constellations, stretches of starry string patterned out like palm creases and webbing across the sky, a thousand-path celestial map
thin wisps of cloud drift between the raggedy scaffolding supporting her fragile mind and she swears she can reach out to catch them, feel the silky slips slide and weave around and between stunted nail-bitten digits then away and she screams again and again because she can never ever quite grip them and the scaffolding shakes.
feel it beating between our palms, lace our fingers around wet and red and dripping and muscle and crush it, if you want. Grip my hand tighter (squish) and watch me sink onto my knees.
a thousand candles flickering in my chest and I exhale, hot breath, hot smoke, dripping heavy candlewax dribbling and melting together into a bouquet of flames and as you catch my eye something catches in my throat tick tick tick boom.
false facades deceive. underneath the pretty decorations and fancy, sweet embellishments lie a hard, hard heart, a chunk of bitter black coal that burns, but not for love. Bite and your pearly white teeth will shatter.
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writing since 2012 · 12 entries · 11 days shown up
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the words Miss-li-ding reaches for
coldfingersdripskinticknightskysometimesfragileshatterscrapeinsidesdarkhardheartbitter