those words were windows
streaked in lime fingerprinted
breaths
falling like stars from the corners of
frayed, torn navy fabric
glittering,
beautiful windows.
those words ripped
apart delicate threads
spidery veins mapped
on skin
beautiful,
apple red.
the weight of those words sat
etching frost on those windows, old wood
bent and cracking
whispering
tenderly
cruelly
“everything
I do for you.”