Tonight the trees are silent.
Moonlight threads through your veins, cold and glimmering, filling your pupils with precious ice.
The stars dripping from the tips of your fingers are so dark, maroon shards of sugar melting with celestial humility.
When your hands
as mine
sank into his lungs
I heard her.
Sunlight can’t lie, they say, but it can hide.
One day you
will fail to
recognize the world
you have
built (here).
His voice is mine is hers is theirs
but when your hands meet mine
I can see the whispers, shadows in the lilies.
Dawn's fingers drag through puddles of rainwater, leaving muddy riverbanks running in her wake. She has never been so tired.
My breath is still, a cloud of amaranth hovering over the quicksilver lakes in your eyes, and I know if I kiss you the way you deserve, you will shatter.
Tonight the leaves are frosted crimson.
