#mic write

"all i can think of is the sun in the summer, us at the rocks by the river, jumping into the clackamas water. i got so sunburned it hurt to wear clothes but we got ice cream that night which is something we deserved to do a long time ago"

"remember when you woke up next to me and curled yourself around my body like you never wanted me to leave? there's a smoky haze in my room and i should open the window but for now it's eight am and you are asleep"

have you never felt so alive? with your raw knuckles & that slick cold on your fingers? dripping off the ends?

is it glorious?

the tablecloth was gone, so we burned the furniture. there wasn’t much to begin with. we were just trying to wait for this storm to pass, for the snow to melt enough to shoulder the door open.

when we ran out of furniture and there were no more tablecloths to burn, we carefully undressed without looking at each other - out of shame or apprehension or misplaced modesty - we put our clothes in the stove. i looked at you once my shirt was bubbling and hissing in its warm bed.

your lips were blue and there was no more desperation in your eyes and that warmed me and i knew what i had to do. you were sleeping. i crept to the place where we kept the matches, the kerosene. it smelled like lighter fluid and made me think of you more than anything.

you woke up to sobbing and hissing and the stinking smoke of burning flesh, to me burning in the corner. you couldn’t do anything and i think that was the point. i’ve burned before. i’d burn again. you just watched as i went up in flames, you sat close enough to me to share the warmth. i was so warm. i was so warm. i was so warm.