wrapped in arms and legs
right words with magic
curled and comfortable
sliding together
a spot of pressure
a cold draft
a shift
something lost
moments of forgetting are more than gold
a memory airbrushed, bruises masked
complexions sanded smooth
Everything beautiful can kill you
Everything pretty is bitter on the tongue
Silk sheets are the unraveling
of the works of worms
A face with no flaws is a mask
Smooth hands are gloves
Round soft feet never touched the grass
can’t run on stone
Touching only happens
in unprotected places.
Hecate's Journal 