'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and...
flume fills me with nostalgia for you were once on the outskirts of me; seeing only my downy limbs as though they were still new to life.
and i think somehow that before you, my skeleton and my skin were my shield and beneath them i was a Queen.
i waited for life but i still do now, only with my guts spilt on the page and my throbbing insides all over the mattress. you hold it all glittering shimmering in your palms and smile with tenderness, and i am awkward with each hair plucked: dark ones darker than the last --
i'll gather my raw bones and arrange them with tenderness 'round my crown. i'll cast a spell on that carcass and cradle each organ in its rightful place. return that colossus to rest and remember my name once more --
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i am in need of some solemn good advice. when two people are in love. or perhaps most importantly. when a woman is in love. how does she hold to herself? how does she not renounce herself for that love, even when it seems to creep into her bones and hollows them out? when one shares everything with another, how can one then gather that all up again? and return it to their own flesh so to speak? when one loses all private things particular to themselves by sharing them with another, is there something lost in that?
