by Nathalia G., 18
I have watched the white mist of our souls dance in the flickers of the moon too many times to count on broken fingers. He takes my shattered pieces into his snake eyes and they pass through, uncut, whole, and watering. The foliage around us blooms with the blood of our love.
Sometimes his snake eyes disappear. Where did his snake eyes go? I hold them and we nibble until liquid fills our mouths and our tongues are rolling around chewed bits. Swallow, and let us fill each other in a different way.
Bridge Ink 