its like the prey playing games with the hunter

by Rachel Lynch in


Heat covered in velvet. I know the comfort of having bones in which anything can fit. Her house is the only one still awake, sheer is the air in which she dwells. I was walking with the ghost. I am thinking under speaking, the way people breath underwater. Everyday my mind grows outside its intended space, but I am still my age. You want what you can't have. The windows are like mirrors at night, And I can see all my hunters.