her eyelids close. hot heavy and sticky in the creases with the slime the heat of the day.
she is bruised on her legs. green purple yellow. clumsy her. someone ought to tell her to be careful.
but she looks again and they look sort of like mishapen art on her flesh. bruises and dark freckles, scattered, over her shoulders like flecks of paint. dark hair, crazy hair, she tries to fix to no avail. her heartbeat thunders in her thin bones, louder than her voice rambling sweet nothings and her fingers tapping the nightstand. the ink in her skin slink off of her body like vines, roots, slithering across the bed over cotton hills to reah him. soak into him and wrap their tendrils around the ink in his skin.