17 September 2012

always gold

pale collarbones covered with mellow streetlights
more than four hundred kilometers every week, to the seaside and back again. cravings. the roads become darker and i fall into a deep slumber, illuminated with images of home and distant memories. thunderstorms. it feels like i have lost my mind, looking for something to light the fire inside. telling myself that one year and six months is a short time, that i should never be afraid

collar bones, night time, scars and bruises. the skin remembers.

a stranger told me today that i was beautiful. platinum eyes, staring at the buttons of their woollen coat. they asked if i was cold. an ocean of words pours from my lips and the salted foam covers their hair, swallowing the unanswered questions and unnamed words and everything

(but never is often too far)

you are the light and i don't even know how to hold you

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