Exquisite Corpse

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by godkinandsin

by godkinandsin

Exquisite Corpse

This is the way I remember him:
his hands: bird wings on my back, fluttering and warm and fleeting.
His fingertips: points of entry to my soul, he tears me at the seams.
His lips: hurricanes against my skin, they are loud and clashing,
and I am deaf to all rescue.
His eyes: ten car pile ups. And I am caught in their crushing weight,
unbreathing.
His skin: a garden of purple blush and yellow roses.
Raw and golden and worn.
The curl of his smile: waves clawing the shore, silently relenting to gravity, desperate for grounding.
His entirety: twelve thousand words, and not enough.