You Once Were Magic, Now Where Are Your Spells of Resurrection?

dead arm

 

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A Colour That Hints At Your Flesh

From an incredible distance I see your pixels dance in my hand, your skin as luminous as I remember it being even if I did have to turn the brightness all the way up. You whisper into the wind that bends the fronds words I hear clearly in my inner ear from this condemned other hemisphere. You are elemental, like I always said. You have more energy than the sun. You are everlasting like the tide; something that cannot be lost. What it means to be a women, whatever occult secret that is, you have it written on the down of your skin—I only regret not learning how to read better.