inked starlight;

two. she’s a broken mess of fragile skin and brittle bones, but god, you love her. when she smiles the universe shifts beneath your feet and your heart catches in your throat, tender and aching and full of moonlight. it’s almost as if you’re falling apart but refusing to break completely, letting yourself crack just enough to let the light spill in from the moth-bitten promise blossoming on her lips. it’s these times when you tell yourself you’d split open your ribcage and rip your lungs out for her because the moment her mouth curves at the edges it’s like there’s nothing else in the world that matters but this.

three. at daybreak you held her hand carelessly, and led her past wildflowers and dirt-streaked paths into the sunrise-sweet, dawn lit sky, where raw pinpricks of light blurred your sharp edges with hers until the lines spluttered and broke into a thousand burning tragedies. that morning you learnt to cradle two trembling hearts in your palms like beautiful, weightless daydreams and unravel them, until your heart thrummed in your throat a low, steady rhythm, telling you over and over and over that this is what it meant to finally, finally, come home.

I count out the golden drops of sun spilled on her cheeks as she lays beside me twirling my hair and my heart in her fingers whispering words like lemon drops sweet and sour and indecisive  

she leans in and I give in  

her casual kisses drive me insane   they twist me up and up and up and I’m a wind up doll my heart turns and turns and turns before slowly coming to a stop because my head remembers   it remembers the way I felt when she looked at him turned to him danced with him kissed him  

my head tries to hold me back but my body was never my own it was hers

always hers  

giggles vibrate against my lips my heart strings thrum like a plucked harp I finally understand what it means to melt under another’s touch 

she tastes like sweet rum again and something inside me breaks a little more   but her casual kisses still drive me insane  

maybe someday, she’ll remember one of them

( a short story on envy; one of my pieces on the seven deadly sins )

i looked it up, later, when you were asleep it means “innocence”

you remember that night? the night you woke up to the sight of me laughing? the sight of my palm glistening red from a thorn that never touched you?

innocence, it meant. i don’t know if that’s hypocrisy or irony

or maybe wishful thinking