SilverScent's profile

Sometimes it's important to read the words, instead of what sits between them, and sometimes it's better to notice what's concrete, before your own reflection.

Sometimes it's important to read the words, instead of what sits between them, and sometimes it's better to notice the concrete, before your own reflection.

They landed with a thump, and seemed to writhe around for some prolonged seconds on the dull, harsh concrete. Until you saved them. Until, you cupped them in your rough pink hands, brushed the loose specks of dirt from their candid skin and held them close. You pronounced their every corner and crevice; ran your index along the texture of them, puzzled their meaning carefully, and pondered still as my breath quivered. The lump in my throat; the aviary in my stomach; the springs in my fingers,...

It started from my nape, dispersed along my shoulders, and sidled down my arms and back in a synchronised scurry. My eyes were fixed open; my fingers still thorny, and I saw her kiss him. My dim pupils cast the widow spiders at his offence, and she felt the icy feet on her lips, then tasted the mangled blood drenching his sallow tongue. My pummelled stomach joined my numb regard for life and morality, and they lived ever after.

He knew it was blue; she knew it was green; and it was never turquoise.