She was once a girl sitting in the middle of the desert with too much whiskey in her blood and not enough power in her words (she still had so much to learn about herself and the might of her words and her body and her blood that runs thick as molten gold through her veins) and was a librarian and that was enough
( ... )
And there is a man at her back and fingers caressing her throat and her own eyes in the mirror staring back and wondering at the image before it, a woman who holds the world within her muscles and bones - caught and tied to a man with a quick smile and flashing eyes and a laugh that does curious things to her toes.
"Am I so very different now?"
She doesn't want the answer, she needs the answer, she is terrified of his answer, she cannot turn away from the mirror.
He taps on her forehead, "In here, maybe."
She wants to run, feels a burning desire to smash the glass and give it up - give it all up (but what will be left? how can she quantify which is her anymore when she is so many parts
( ... )
( ... )
Reply
you and me and my ghost make three
She was once a girl sitting in the middle of the desert with too much whiskey in her blood and not enough power in her words (she still had so much to learn about herself and the might of her words and her body and her blood that runs thick as molten gold through her veins) and was a librarian and that was enough ( ... )
Reply
"Am I so very different now?"
She doesn't want the answer, she needs the answer, she is terrified of his answer, she cannot turn away from the mirror.
He taps on her forehead, "In here, maybe."
She wants to run, feels a burning desire to smash the glass and give it up - give it all up (but what will be left? how can she quantify which is her anymore when she is so many parts ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment