Blue veins crawled along his skeleton, wrapping and twisting around tendons and bones. A girl strummed along those veins, pooling into a river extending to his heart. Fingertips fumbled over light skin, obstructed by short incisive scars. Entranced by the maps of emotional struggles and self-inflicted injuries, she paused to figure the contours of his malformations. It was a taste of nostalgia, of late night expulsions and carving hate into her own arms. She saw a kind of self-loathing that resonated deep within the breastbone, an ink splatter dispersing into the bloodstream.
Within in his murky eyes and half-moon smile, she saw herself reflected. Shielded and hidden behind kind words and soft smiles. Scars were gemstones, gleaming red and fleshy. The soft tissue, which extended from the curve of his forearm to the small of his wrists, was marred and fused back into itself. Her heart stretched to fill with an ache as she saw his ugly scars, so beautiful. A small encircling of the two allowed each to peel back and gauge at secrets.
His hands separated hers from his skin as he brought her fingers to his mouth, seeking resolution. She looked to him, dewy eyes plucking and picking at his mind. She had a certain way of touching his soul and bringing it home. Her warmth was his genesis and his mind swam inside delirium. At last, the remaining grain of bliss had fallen to the floor of time, it seemed. In this fleeting moment of intimacy, two pairs of eyes watched the world within them dissipate.
The mousy-haired boy dipped his fingers into her soul and pulled from her heartstrings the musings of her existence. Slow, droning noises fell from his lips as soft utterances of goodbye that left her yearning for more. She was insatiable, a fawn eager to explore the crevices of his conscious and seal his scarred tissue with kisses. However, he never allowed her opportunity to delve too deeply. He left and led his heart away from the lingering longing that spawns from a love that lingers lastingly.
He filled his spoons with liquids of regret whenever he would leave. His restraint held him high and it was through persistence that he never revealed his sensitive insides. He was machine, made of vessels and concrete, unable to bleed or feel freely. Limbs like vulnerable noodles from his middle wrapped around himself to hide from the world.
She stood jilted, possessed by the sustaining affection now rejected. Distance was written on her wrists, held positioned for absolution but never fixed. Absence is a form taken quietly. It seeped under her lids as she prayed she would sleep somehow, but the vacancy inside her chest rang far too hard for her to catch her breath and rest. A tremendous weight had burrowed itself into her breast and gnawed at her harmed heart. It feasted upon the scar tissue, dissolving the pink flesh with a venomous caress.
Round, winding sores divided in the brief bits of touch as though they had brush shoulders. Such contact was slighted and swiped before anything tangible could be grasped upon. Their collisions occurred on angles, sweeping and diving across one another but never completely meeting. Like a subtle gust of wind that expelled and dispersed from his lungs to hers, it was over before it really began and something that had felt so incredibly intense dissolved into rain tears—solid bulbs of saltwater which when mixed with spit seemed no different from any other liquid.