The Faded Sutra
The uniform is too tight across the shoulders, a constant, suffocating reminder of the architecture I have forced upon my own body, and I am standing in the center of the living room while you ask me why the coat is bleeding, even though there is no blood, only the dark, viscous ink of the night seeping through the wool like a memory that refuses to be forgotten. You look at me with that...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 2 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση