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31_days2012-07-25 11:47 pm
noir-au-blanc.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-25 11:47 pm
July 24 - Original - Ink and Glass
Title: Ink and Glass
Day/Theme: July 25 – “Your body becomes a kind of historical document.”
Series: Original
Rating: PG
Your back under her fingers was capable of housing thoughts, fears – capable of holding all her stories from birth to death, of grimy streets and wanderings through dark hallways – lush green moss entrapments, of lovers both grime encrusted yet naked under the barest of flames.
She loved these moments in which she imagined the words falling unhindered to litter his skin with ink and glass slowly etched into the flesh to disappear into the ether, the smallest seed of worry would always stay in the edges of her periphery – should she stop, the threads would be broken, not so much the grace or beauty but possibly the flux of emotion.
That worried her.
When the tempo changed and her conscious decided to stop writing, to push is to hard and sometimes whats left in the flux is more than enough, the living breathing canvas relaxes allowing the living organs beneath in their jewelled tones time to breath slowly and lights shine dim in the corners of the room.
That is all you see and all I need.
Day/Theme: July 25 – “Your body becomes a kind of historical document.”
Series: Original
Rating: PG
Your back under her fingers was capable of housing thoughts, fears – capable of holding all her stories from birth to death, of grimy streets and wanderings through dark hallways – lush green moss entrapments, of lovers both grime encrusted yet naked under the barest of flames.
She loved these moments in which she imagined the words falling unhindered to litter his skin with ink and glass slowly etched into the flesh to disappear into the ether, the smallest seed of worry would always stay in the edges of her periphery – should she stop, the threads would be broken, not so much the grace or beauty but possibly the flux of emotion.
That worried her.
When the tempo changed and her conscious decided to stop writing, to push is to hard and sometimes whats left in the flux is more than enough, the living breathing canvas relaxes allowing the living organs beneath in their jewelled tones time to breath slowly and lights shine dim in the corners of the room.
That is all you see and all I need.