his chest was the ground caving in in a matter of seconds; it was the streets' sudden tremors the wall cracks and chipped rocks. his gaze, hauntingly sad, it was almost inviting. and i was a girl, all white dress and wide eyes not really knowing any better; steps, too careful walks, too slow, tracing the faultlines misplaced on his skin;
it was an open field — an open target for the lightning to strike and leave its marks and i was just a girl, looking for poems where they shouldn't be found; on the palm creases, and the curves of his lips. i walk, all tentative tiptoes and a wrong step; falling into each hollow, each crevice, each slit.
he was an earthquake, waiting to happen seismic and sudden, taking everything down.
and i — a nameless girl, an inkblot for face and limbs a paramour, a secret, all wrapped into one.
i — a doorstep kiss, an uncertain touch, a bedpost notch, all wrapped into one.
and i — a jamais vu, a face in the crowd, a nameless casualty,