"The veins in your fingertips would look like the naked trees in winter if they weren't covered in flesh", I heard him say. You could hear the smile in his voice.
My lips are trembling, blue from the cold, mirroring the shadows of the dark water. There are flowers in my lungs, sprouting, blooming and rotting over and over again. It's good that I don't need to breathe. My words reek of their death and rebirth.
I think he played a melody with my ribs and it won't stop echoing through every bone in my body. It's making my skull ache but it also makes me want to dance.
My lips are trembling, blue from the cold, mirroring the shadows of the dark water. There are flowers in my lungs, sprouting, blooming and rotting over and over again. It's good that I don't need to breathe. My words reek of their death and rebirth.
I think he played a melody with my ribs and it won't stop echoing through every bone in my body. It's making my skull ache but it also makes me want to dance.
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