larouille

i want your fractures. i should like to shrink myself down to the size of a pinprick of light and turn the bruise on your left elbow from purple to yellow. i want to sing to every pop of your stiff joints as you stretch out of bed, arms wiry and long above your head as if to not just simply awake, but to rather exorcise yourself from sleep. i want to dance to your sleepy nothings spoken in susurrus dreamcode, just as i wish to close my eyes and sway to the hollow rasp of your first morning moan as you sip quietly at your cucumber-honey tea to soothe your avian throat. the drop-slide of your hips and the mathematical angles of yo