A string of nightfalls find me in parkour gear at the end of the month. My well-worn Onitsuka's pave the way to her bedroom. My backpack brings back packages of promises, and stains a tattoo into my spine from the force of a thousand tiny impacts.
She is a wraith in the windowpane moonlight. The spirit of a child who never escaped. I meet her at midnight and we exchange little blossoms by-hand. Each flower sculpted petal-by-petal and nourished with desire, devotion, hope and hunger.
9:30 p.m. - 2015-07-07
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Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Elliptical - 2018-06-25
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