I’m still trying to fix up the wreckage you left behind, the chaotic strings of misery you let fall to the floor. Each piece delicately piercing my skin, the red glow a contrast to my continual white limbs.
Jewellry doesn’t excite me, no more than a tightly wrapped gift, but when you show up at my door, small smile and eager to kiss, I’m more excited than I could ever believe.
