Crystalia

United States

24 Inches

April 16, 2019

You sit further away by the woods.
you-

You.
You give him life that he never knows
away from the cherry curtains and blossoms of light that bounce on your cheeks
when you watch him.
You savor beams of sun
spreading where it’s
unloved.
Etch-ed.
Your face reverberates light into his lungs,
you smile and warmth comes again.

A hollow gasp breaks the marrow
“Breathe.”
You whisper a rasp, a honeyed sap that seeps into his ears.

How can he move on from this?

Each cramped finger reaches into him,
lightly grasping the quiet drum of his veins.
You hold them gently.

“Look away.”
You’re obedient
and silence coats your lips.

"Go."
you
can't hear.
You breathe oceans away into the waning sunlight
and stand tall again.

Chimes trill in the fading breeze.
A memoir of flowing dresses and flashing teeth echo
in the young florescence of the afternoon.
You let go.
you let go of your worries
your sighs
you let go of your own.

You step over ponderous rocks
and the prick of the lake swarms you.
A churning chill fires inside,
and you drift off.
Falling forward
stumbling
the anchor deepens in your gut
and hooks into the red lining,
settling.

they’re inside now.

The freeze envelops your ankles, calves, knees
the thoughts won’t go.
He cries to you,

“don’t look at me.”

you close your eyes.
you walk waist-deep, your legs cracking
the snap of thin bone as they give out.
A distorted crystal-blue-you
rushes into your rosy, pink cheeks.

And
with the twist of your tiny little waist
your hips shatter.
Rime soaks your face
and frost digs her nails into your spine.
Your ribs sag deeper into your sides.

Mint shocks strike at your eyelids,
and they open to the amber abyss of roses.
Verdant vines of stifling nature
crowd the waters
in throbbing vibrancy.
Icy relief tears through crisp tendrils into your stomach
reaching inside.

your ribs give in.

The tightening,
stifling,
bones
break loose from red ropes.

Bright pink wafts in and out of the voids around you,
a soft hue of silk
worming in and out of your skin.
Silken embroidery of sweatshop thread merge long, thick trails of veins
pulsating,
drowning,
wrenching.

Their shine deepens into a seeping crimson.
Such delicious streams of velvet flesh
polished vermilion weeps.
You inhale
and bile clots your throat
into a hard, torn lump.

and you sink deeper.

you can’t move on.

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