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     (=｀ω'=) ~~ I'm trash

My hair is like that of broken guitar strings; curled and twined. And if it could, would make the sound of the disrupted instrument.

My hands are like blushing doves, fragile and bloodied. The same color that teases at the veins in my eyes. A solid color that, when provoked, overtakes my vision in a rose glass haze. 

Heated dots of the sun past, cover my face. They dance with each other in a faded cluster on marble. Limestone circuits cut shadows through its obscure home; an oval for a face and deep hollows as a cheap imitation for eyes.

** ALL CREDIT FOR THE ARTWORK IN MY BOOKS GO TO THE ORIGINAL CREATORS**