do you ever think about crystallized heartbeats? and capricorn fists holding winter solstices within each crease, palms like mountains with riverbends and valleys, cliffdiving into an ocean of crimson skin? the lullaby that plays over and over in my head is the sound of your voice cracking as you said, "please don't go." that three-word phrase sings me to sleep every single night.
i didn't ask for this, you know.
i didn't ask for blown-out candles smoke twirling into tendrils of grey and ashy piles. i never asked for your blank stare when your memory was erased by people in white coats with long needles. i didn't ask for your arms to become my stronghold and my shelter against the night.