blood and bone stripped away
my shadow smells like winter

your fingers are coarse and dry
scraping lazy circles of doubt across my back
dust falls from my skin like summer rain
and settles silently on the floorboards
I'm wasting away, but it's okay, it's okay
because your eyes never leave mine.

it's 102 degrees and I've never felt so cold.

a/n: i don't want to be this anymore.