Broken Hearts Make it Rain

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On the tips of your fingers to the end of your cigarette. From your sweet little toes to the nip of your nose, and in each hushed breath as the night air floats to the foot of your bed. What you fear most keeps calling your name; it stays safe from harm when you’re not paying enough attention. Masturbating in the shower, the sound of an ice-cream truck can be heard over the din of heavy rain. Passing above trees and overgrown gardens, it jumps around in my zig-zag brain and mixes with images of plastic blondes doing things they learnt from the dirty girls that blind adolescent minds. Moaning as my hand searches in vain for relief, I close my eyes and see all the animals that roam the woods. They’re running as fast as their tiny paws will allow as a storm washes away all they once knew, and in their broken hearts, they’re searching for a way back into my arms. Hot water washing over greasy skin, the cries they cry to the moon make me shiver; they make me come undone unlike any orgasm. In the passage of flesh that runs the length of her wrist, I place my wet lips and kiss her back to where she came from. In the shadow my body casts upon hers, these urges that never subside cause her to tremble as all that remains hidden is uncovered at last. Life swings on a fallen eyelash; it drops like a bead of sweat onto a belly so swollen and tender. These confessions will one day be lost. They will rot away like the stump of a tree along with the initials that were carved into its bark on a cold, October afternoon, so long ago. Standing in the middle of the road oblivious to oncoming traffic, I tilt my head to one side while opening my arms ready for what follows.

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