In the seasons where leaves break like bones beneath treading soles, I tied impetuous hands, which grazed her hips, and bound them to the trail of her hair down her back.
Frigid -- the droplets of ice beating my veins like a metronome clock— hands shook, and dirt grew beneath nails.
Clouds formed a river of stars gazing in the blue moon. I watched as it receded and dried along the edges of of the roof.