Literature
Her (in progress)
Lips shedding skin like serpents, crackling like logs on a fire.
The blood seeps through cracks in the ruined skin.
Worry brings teeth, settling against the torn surface,
Pressing harder with every passing second,
Scraping against wounded flesh to part more particles,
To cause more tears.
She was heaven at first,
A movement in the foggy trees,
And, captivated, I trailed behind her.
Soft touches, laughter, and her weight in my lap,
Never forgetting the way it felt to be 'loved'.
Photographs mixed in with normalcy,
Pictures of what I thought was,
But it wasn't that, never,
And her subtle magician's tricks have lost their sparkle,
Her slig