The shattered heart is like broken glass; everyone holds a piece in clenched hands. Shards cut the skin deeper until nothing is left to bleed out but its residual emptiness. Until nothing remains but the feeling.
Like so many breaths of despair. Your leaves shivering in a warm Savannah breeze. Like so many paintings caught in an amber eye. I wore your skin then, my paws heavy against your trunk. Your life slipping away when my hunger knew no love.
Memories of us dying of thirst on the open sea. Holding back the salt. Our wounds open like gifts, like black pearls, like treasures unearthed, like pink flamingos flying into sunrise.
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