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Mar 2014
well I thought of you in summer
but you did not suit the season--

a pale and solemn human,
your fingers stark and slim.

what was it like to shelter,
in the ring of salt and stone?

you thought that demons could not watch you,
when they've always found their home.

I saw you climb inside your skin, thinking
you'd be safer from within

but his fingertips
poked through

and he was the end of you.
A more candid letter to myself.

(For those of you who don't know but would like to, "bon hiver" means, "good winter" in French.)
bambi
Written by
bambi
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