Monday 15 January 2018

No more

My wings continue rolling into a deep abyss, chipping away bit by bit, their glow dimming ever so slightly as they crumble from the mountains of my back that curve inward and outward when I pull myself towards the twinkling above, but also when I bury myself inside dry earth.
They flutter rapidly, rustling in the tornado created by the twirls of your index finger round and round and round until it becomes crisp delicate air that carries me off to a land unknown.
They fall like suckling fireflies, drop by drop, bright and vibrant until they are ripped out like threads unraveling from the cushion that we wrestled with. My skin is ruby with each extracted vein lying dully in your fingers. I'm bare and there are no more threads left for you to pull anymore.

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