you invite her in,

as she knowingly falls into your subliminal abyss.

she gnaws on her pale pink lips,

almost violently enough to cause crimson blood to drip.

no longer is she timid,

because she’s not naive, and neither are you.

she stares up at you with those bright, yet jaded eyes,

tearing you apart as you tug at the fragile lace that encompasses her waist.

calloused fingertips graze against collarbones,

then silently discovering their way here and there.

she inhales the sweet atmosphere that surrounds,

opening her eyes just wide enough,

capturing the sullen skies that threaten to collapse above.

but the comforting familiarness in the empty inches that lie between your ribs,

make her feel at home.