I had forgotten
what it was like to fly,
until your hands
closed on my wrists.
I had forgotten
what it was like to breathe,
until your mouth
covered mine.
I had forgotten
what it was like to be so consumed,
until you promised
forever,
and I felt myself soar,
and sing,
and burn
to ash.
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About Catastrophe Jones
Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.