xylophonicthe sound of your tipping toes - xylophonicxylophonic by capricordestin
like little drums, they hunt for the rhythmic liberties of your
pounding, so delicate
without the fractional syncopes you used to have
but there's no mutuality, not a word and you
trim the end of its vocal cord happiest heartlessness, you call it
as if it would ever grow back
dearest chimeras tell you, it will
excerpt.she grew wiser and the lines in her skin were etched in harder, far too heavy for her gossamer skin.excerpt. by ohsparrowsong
but she grew older and the pains of womanly were never quite as torturous as she remembered from her youth.
the gods grew kinder and the storm behind her belly button grew quieter, and less monstrous.
her bones were no longer carved out of what felt like styrofoam, they grew darker and stronger and she learned that the ocean isn't always for drowning in.
and that salt water is the cure all;
sweat tears and the rolling ocean.