crystallized-skies

you swept over me like a sudden summer rain, your thunder echoed in my ears as your whispered words of endearment settled into the dimples of my cheeks, warming them with the dying rays of a hazy summer sun; and like lightning dancing in the heat your calloused hands danced across sunburnt shoulders until the skies turned an inky grey—   and I was drenched.

 i can feel your fingertips trailing down my shoulder,losing themselves in the freckled constellations that paint my arms in a warm afternoon glow,nowthey’re drawing infinite circles into the hollows of my palms as I stare into the infinite circles of your hazel eyes. they savagely hold me captive, i don’t dare move as they daringly trace the outline of my lips, painstakingly marking every last weathered crack and line;i feel an immovable heat as the hazel fades into an intricate kaleidoscope of   browns, golds, and greens. your fingertips. they’re pressed against mine as we're pressed againsttime,feverish and wild lips collide in hopeless...

my eyes flutter open to the light of the full moon seeping into the corners of my vision, the smell of last night’s alcohol and your sweet perfume clings to the shirt that now clings to my bare chest as I wade silently through the maze of bad decisions and discarded clothes that litter your bedroom floor; i hear you sigh into the mattress as you mourn the absence of your favorite pillow.***the smell of your burnt coffee and my mid-morning cigarette lingers on my skin as you run your fingers through my delicate mess of hair, enjoying the sun rise view of my smiling cheeks as we sit all legs and ankles curled up in the shadow of my back porc...

i sit alone cigarette in hand, the smoke from it’s flickering end licks at the chapped frame of my nearby window; I watch the  cloud swirl upwards toward the studded sable sky  as I breathe in deep trying to settle the restless  Beast nestled behind the warmth of my oceanic eyes, (he doesn’t like quiet evenings spent at home.)  the cool evening air brushes against my freckle-kissed cheeks and  stirs the collar of my  unbuttoned shirt, sending goosebumps trailing down my outstretched arms until I shiver into  the well-worn chair  I have found myself curled up on like it is my unlucky throne. i’m not sure whether ...

The orange light of the street lamp peeks through the curtains casting your face in  a northern lights kinda glow and I smile into the valley of my pillow as  my fingers brush through your wildfire hair before slowly tracing  the sloping field of your jaw; I wanna kiss the sleeping  breath from your lips  as you lie there quietly next to  me dreaming in midnight ecstasy; I can’t help the butterflies  that settle into the hollows  of my stomach as you shift closer to me and I begin to think  about how damn lucky I am to wake up next to you on  nights like these-- angry sunlight filters  in through shuttered blinds as I glance at the clock ...

my head hangs heavily amongst melancholy cloudsand the rain soaks my collar cleanas I sit staring at the cold stone monarchs of my ancestors;that’s when I feel your whisper in my veins.fire sparks in the whitesof my eyes as your fingers warm the hollows of my threadbare hips, I can feel the smoke filling my lungs as you pull me to my feet and brush the dirt from my ruby stained cheeks. “ dance for me, graveyard girl” you call as your hands pull me into a swinging embrace;your smile seems to brighteneven the darkest shadowsof my worn out souls and I can feel a lightnessbubbling up in the pit of my bones--“ you’ve done the impossible" I say ...

i’ve got a picture of you  tucked into the back pocket  of my masochistic mind and it haunts me in the darkest hours of my early morning sleep but  I can’t really seem to bring myself to  care because part of me craves the fire that you continue to reignite in the valleys of my singed synapses-- i thought I had moved on, left those feelings to drown in the depths of a darkened lake bed ( good fucking riddance)   because I didn’t need that kind of twisted, gifted misdirection  in my life  but, here. i. am.  (the lighter feels warm in my shivering hands)  the taste of ashes dances on my tongue and   the smell of burning flesh clings to the ...