i untie your thoughts as if i am untying my laces. it’s a childlike movement. my fingers tucked under pieces of string, with a pop as the end leaves its washer. the result only empty canvas, metal and string, an inanimate object scattered on my bedroom floor.
as i step inside of you i learn that your lungs are made of much tougher stuff than your heart. you will always continue to breathe, even when you are left with ripe plum coloured bruises and strawberry stitches. i walk the walls of your mind and learn the secrets of your heart and darling, i am not scared at all.
