His eyes are sulphur and granite - his touch hot volcanic ash. The picture of you on her wallpaper walls shakes until it shatters and spills, violently, across the floor and down the stairs. In the morning you step on cold glass that brings words to your mouth you'd rather not taste.
Friday, August 31, 2007
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1 Comments:
I want to steal your mind. Or at least borrow it. Because it's so pretty... I adore everything you think, so much.
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