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.
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.
