my hands were clutching to your bones and your skin for love like a newborn grasping his mother's breasts for milk, your bones pervade my neglected cavities as your skin caresses mine, i don't know know what to call this but you most definitely scare me sometimes because i cant find the right answers, mama warned me about men like you, the ones with asphalt eyes and fingers of mugworts and meadowsweets twining around my throat, claiming me forever. i knew you were a ghostly figure of dolos from the start. spirit of the trickery to hunt or haunt my soul. you tried to make me your apate but it didn't work. even so i still craved for your vacuous touch because i am no child of fraud but a child of mercy. even with the trickster gods.
