The taste of rain and salt sat on her tongue. Wet grass tickled the nape of her neck as she lay, limp, on the moor. If she moved her head to look at her hands, which were adorned with Catherine Devon's rings, she would've seen the blood. 

But she didn't. 

She stayed there, a bone-white mannequin, all twisted and wrong. A crow landed, head titled in curiosity. She smiled bitterly at it. Her job had been done. The Devon legacy...

The taste of rain and salt sat on her tongue. Wet grass tickled the nape of her neck as she lay, limp, on the moor. If she moved her head to look at her hands, which were adorned with Catherine Devon's rings, she would've seen the blood. 

But she didn't. 

She stayed there, a bone-white mannequin, all twisted and wrong. A name fluttered from her lips, but was caught by a crow's caw. Then silence. Only the wind in the...

dig your knuckles into the salty earth 
and when you hear the dogs 
turn back to the light 
glowing light 
alive, pulsing through the windows 
as you walk to the house 

look for your mother in the shadows 
don't let them fool you 
like they fooled her 
fools with rotten teeth 
empty smiles, tying nooses
as you search the house

clutch your bone-white secrets to your chest
feel the ache of time 
slivers of time 
ribbons, confetti snowflakes spiralling 
around...

gather up your wishbones, all sea-scuttled and worn
crack them between your fingers and watch the white break 
snap them like your heartstrings 
sinewy and dripping 
drink up the marrow found within 
lips pressed on muscle 
searching 

(try to forget what happened that night)

you want to go back to the house
smash up the wind-blistered wood 
cry as the splinters draw blood 
all you can remember is 
your little brother's hand 
outstretched in the night
searching 

(...

Skip me like a stone across the seas. 

Cast me out into the silvery shores, with enough force that I don't sink into it's depths, but just enough. 

Let me skim in the waters, comforted by darkness and the explosions of stars above me. 

I need to know what it feels to be truly alone. 

I need to taste the salt, taste the ancient memories of the drowned on my tongue.  

I need to separate myself from you with...

the moon is a kiss. 

a kiss of desperation, a kiss of longing, a kiss of grabbing her silvery locks and pressing your aching mouth against hers. 

she's an illusion of me, a gleaming ghost to hold whilst I hide from her light, amongst the shadows and other men. 

whilst you put on a show in the sky, fading together, I try to avert my gaze to look down yet another wine bottle. 

sometimes, with her soft head buried in...