Years, hours, numbers roll by.
Washed up on the shoreline, messy.
How a frown stood out from the bundle.
It’s arm length, affection starts small.
Stuck in a box together, ones dead, ones alive.
Barely breathing, it’s okay.
It’s warm enough.
Burns pretty on the inside.
It might sting, though.
Lost in your glow, lost to melding our insides as one.
Tangled as blood,
twisted by skin,
knotte...
