At times, I forget that my arms are fragments of fraying rope and my cupped fingers are chipped porcelain. My body fools itself among solid beings, only allowing reality to seep through my bones in dead silence.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
At times, I forget that my arms are fragments of fraying rope and my cupped fingers are chipped porcelain. My body fools itself among solid beings, only allowing reality to seep through my bones in dead silence.
