but they were both weak. desperately, she held on to his hand. they were hanging from a cliff. the light reflecting off four moons in the sky was no longer promising, the silver tone on their skin was no longer vivid and sincere. instead, it was fragile and gray.
their skin as thin as paper, their bones in sharp angles, threatening. their faces distorted in an infinite sadness, their eyes dark and fatigued.
her thin arm could not hold on any longer, she let go of the edge of the cliff.
gravity swallowed them whole, paper skin and crippled bones, butterflies suffocating beneath their rib cages.
their love was weak, their minds were weak. their skulls crashed against jagged rocks, their thin legs twisted, their hips turned, their ribs opened, the butterflies gasped for air and fluttered into the morning sky.
the first sun awakened, the sky turned from silver to a soft, calm blue. their love was once weak.
she still held his thin hand in hers.
YOU ARE READING
teeth
Puisia collection of thoughts, emotions and very short stories - in progress. I guess you can call it, "poetry".
