crise cardiaque

Beneath my hands your small breasts are the upturned bellies of breathing fallen sparrows.

Wherever you move I hear the sounds of closing wings of falling wings.

I am speechless because you have fallen beside me because your eyelashes are the spines of tiny fragile animals.

I dread the time when your mouth begins to call me hunter.

When you call me close to tell me your body is not beautiful I want to summon the eyes and hidden mouths of stone and light and water to testify against you.

I want them to surrender before you the trembling rhyme of your face from their deep caskets.

When you call me close to tell me your body is not beautiful I want my body and my hands to be pools for your looking and laughing.

i welcome self love into my life

💗☁️🌸✨🌸☁️💗

like to charge