for special torture I was crying myself awake reading our former beauty the union we had and showed in letters dancing across the screen
photo credit: Ryan-o tasting the insides of arms || playing fingers in the garden spines are tickled by tongues unleashed in passion’s simmer stars shatter in the sky from the force of new creation it is pulling us down it is pulling us down spiral
like a papercut sharp. but not really that painful more mad than anything like when you stub a toe that’s already been stubbed before. again. right when it was on its way to healing.