i had a cut on my shin that day, and i could feel the salt digging into it with sharp fingers as the whole of the ocean licked at my kneecaps. there were goosebumps up my thighs,



down my shoulders




my winter skin fell against the ash of the horizon near-seamlessly. his was no different. we



huddled together in the blues and the greys, saltwater in our bellybuttons, cold wet hands grasping cold wet backs and shoulders, the heat of his breath threaded around my curls and dove



down into the cavity between our chests.




he was skinny and shivering, and i and i and




i was trying to steam clean him with my loving palms, smooth the wrinkles out of his deflated heart and open him up and climb inside.