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[where_trees_go]

evenings taste like death. in twilight, i walk, every smell like a punch, lingering on wrists and arms, a yellow light. i try not to think about how April is the cruelest month, how May is suicide weather, how i lost myself somewhere in the void between the two. i tell myself that i am a rattlesnake, shed my skin and come out new, bare feet in

Comments

[darkhaligh]

you constantly re-amaze me with how beautiful your writing is, lovely natalee.

[arpiana]

Sometimes your writing knocks me off my feet.

[18thandmay]

i miss you so much.