she was brown as iodine,

by Rachel Lynch in


“She was brown as iodine, her hair was sun-bleached to a ghost-color, she’d had a wonderful time.”

I let my baby down again, walked the line between love and lust. When the world spins inside a capsule, it's hard to fall asleep. Lust is what's leftover. Secret whispers through an entanglement of snow-white blankets, manhattan skyline. Promises are made, but nothing is forever.