Raspberry Blood

her hands: blooming. sugar, hot and humming. those wrists, sweet, no longer sticky. yet stubborn, reigning the laughter of two years ago. her lips: fruit. ripe, or rotten, you no longer remember. still, they remind you. sin is where your body overruns your soul. let nature trespass you once in a while. all she wanted, to be left alone with sky and sea. something you, not even you, could give her. life began to leak away in her voice, “if the world does not stop, darling, i just might.” and you could taste the blood in her sigh, all those leftovers from two years ago. her body: gardens. the former home of such a lovely pulse. you liked to visit her a lot. she was once a prison of colour in your foggy seaside town. but the air that day: salty. streetcars unfolded in faces you did not know. you felt the world in past tense. “it is not only the city you have left behind.” and your message did not reach her.