turn salt to glass for the wound.

2011-01-01 | 2:56 a.m.

you could be just another girl
on her back, on plateaus
in high places, feet digging into the soil of skin
dragging through mud
tearing through the sheets
with that man riding down on his cloud
in my breath
and panting and groaning
gives all he can
so she can cry "he means it! he means it!"
through meanest means, he means it.
you could be crashing under his salt
swaying, leaning against the inside of insides
meeting him, begging him
with movements like waves
tides of blood and bones
and i would
o i would
i be that ocean
to break his fall
to recieve him in arms
more than willing,
more, more, so much more...

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