The stitches of my cracked
being are creating a reflection
in my eyes like a code no one
could decipher.
Veins like branches
of a tree on winter. Weak and old,
it's dying either way.
She spoke words that kept him
awake through the night,
depriving him from what he
needed the most.
Silk-like skin and sun-bright eyes,
who knows what lies beneath?