all there was was sadness and emptiness and loneliness and not much else
it flowed over like waves over toes and ankles and calves and knees and thighs and hips and fingers and arms and elbows and shoulders and lips and eyes and and and
it’s tingling touch would leave traces of dreams on her skin. dreams scattered like stars in constellations or freckles on a young girl. on her sides and collarbones and across the bridge of her nose
i would spend every waking moment tracing them over—every last one of them
until i could map out her very soul with my breath.