sharkcuddles

An open wound, 
flecks of dirt and
gravel
ground into the raw,
pink,
flesh. 
My blood, as dark and crimson 
as a 
cherry, trickling
down my legs,
the brightness contrasting
against my

A hardcover  
novel 
is opened and 
softly interrupts 
the quiet,
or maybe
it
creates the 
quiet.
both.
neither.
And the wildness 
of the storm
outside
of the window,