thorn bush

your hands trailed silken

your hands trailed silken butterfly wings

across my wrists

and i was lost

in this galaxy of space

feeling too much of

the heat of the closest star

and not enough of

the farthest moon.

your grip has turned to a claw

and you're strangling me

wringing every last drop

wringing every last drop of petaled blood

from the slashes your nails

from the slashes your nails painted

across my paper skin.

and now i'm numb

as this universe of glass

is broken

by the wear of years

and years

of wildflower bruises.

my skin would gleam beneath

the crimson pool of blood

if not for the lack of light

if not for the lack of light in this barred windowed room.

i am blossoming

into something.

forever anonymous