Bruises
heart shaped bruises
Make it count, even if it’s not the first time or the last – especially if it’s not the first time or the last.
Everyone remembers their first kiss, even if they spiraled down a deep black haze right after; and everyone remembers that last bruise left just above their collarbone, glaring purple on soft ivory, hidden under layers of fabric. Always a set of teeth, a disembodied voice in the middle of the night and millions of cells remembering one electrifying sensation.
What I’m trying to say is, no matter whose heart is beating against your palm for the thousandth time, make it count. Your teeth won’t always be the first or last.
Everyone remembers their first kiss, even if they spiraled down a deep black haze right after; and everyone remembers that last bruise left just above their collarbone, glaring purple on soft ivory, hidden under layers of fabric. Always a set of teeth, a disembodied voice in the middle of the night and millions of cells remembering one electrifying sensation.
What I’m trying to say is, no matter whose heart is beating against your palm for the thousandth time, make it count. Your teeth won’t always be the first or last.