artclassreject

Winter is still clinging to my skin, with Autumn sleeping within the tangles of my night witch hair. 65 days to learn how to fall, & Icarus, with his sun kissed fingers wrapped around my throat, giggles knowingly in my ear. I have misplaced my reckless disaster of a heart so many times, I’m not even sure it ever existed at all. But knuckles, they never lie- pressed flowers, lipstick stained against my uprooted spine. Covered in frost & silence I am a magenta February- the imprint of teeth that bruised centuries between me & bed sheets.