ciel-de-noir

you're very pretty, in a heart-wrenching kind of way. your scrawny arms, usually sporting silver or gold bracelets which look more alive than you sometimes, your skin is so frighteningly pale. he loves you, you know. yes. you know. your arms lead up to your shoulder blades, like branches on a delicate tree. a willow. a weeping willow. shoulder blades. razor sharp, those, sticking out of your back as if they had been wrenched apart and away from you. he wonders whether you want to fly. one day you told him, sometimes, i'd like to fade away. have you ever thought of that? just close my eyes and disappear. i wouldn't die, no, not ex