Human Flambé

Cold bustier eyes. All pushed up where they don't belong. Gazing with a simian awe. At everything you once thought yours.

There were mountains in his words. That I was never fit to climb. And deep valleys in his silences that I'd get trapped inside.

Living to feel. Cutting away every callous only to be left with naked bones.


no

skin


Touching the tip of the branch. Always avoiding the leaves. With a cool, spectator smirk he flattered himself that the glass was broken.

The doorknob on his back. The window in his side.

No rooms.

Only empty hallways.