They breathe hot holes into ice,
dimples dreamed in grayscale.
They lick the skin between your toes
like the bygone lover that
sucked hot kisses on the back of your neck.
but that was years, possibly
even months, ago;
you've got a different dream now -
instead of moths it gives you
butterflies.
















Comments
xo!
--
one half of *ZombiesAteUs
--
To love someone is to isolate him from the world, wipe out every trace of him, dispossess him of his shadow, drag him into a murderous future. It is to circle around the other like a dead star and absorb him into a black light.
Jean Baudrillard
lol
all the rest is fabulous!
--
~*~We Survive What We Can't Change~*~
Surrender to the Truth: [link]
Believe the Lie: [link]
--
"There comes a man in every time's life..."
butterflies.
<3. i think the ending makes the poem.
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