She pulled at the tattered threads which bound my heart, inviting it to break again under the strain of her touch.
And in the seclusion of it's asylum it beat, bleeding out from between the ruptured walls of it's confinement.
Each fissure seething a long forgotten red, like teardrops in an endless chasm.
A slow red rain against black canvas
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
She pulled at the tattered threads which bound my heart, inviting it to break again under the strain of her touch.
And in the seclusion of it's asylum it beat, bleeding out from between the ruptured walls of it's confinement.
Each fissure seething a long forgotten red, like teardrops in an endless chasm.
A slow red rain against black canvas
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