Ah to be innocent once more. A feeling like wind rushing through wild hair, stars falling to melt over pale bones. We were perfect - running barefoot in the sand, the taste of ocean salt crystals on lips, sunlight falling on skin like golden faery dust. We cupped our souls in calla lily hands and they were unbroken, unique and without flaw - like the colored stones that fall and make patterns against kaleidoscope glass.

To grow up is to feel the world implode. Everything we touch seems to twist into smoke -- shattering glass, the sounds of a heart breaking. We are empty vessels only now realizing we are incomplete, jagged tooth and hard nail, fevered skin. Ravenous fingers scratching at the holes on our backs that once held our wings. Shallow breathing like the sounds of ice cracking. Splintering. A shadow twists, rising and falling.

Visceral - a heartbeat in the darkness.

Copyright-Cho Kucifer 2.13.11