Evanescence
Crescent moonâ my lids gaze up, my hands unfold, one by one, my nails and my palms both breathing inâ never out. I longed for the fresh airâs kiss beneath window pane when I was thirteen, because all I heard then, were screeching chains and the clenching sound of my suffocated veins. half moon came. my lids gaze up, my hands unfold: colors emerge through my arms, straight to my flesh. The windâ it soughs softly tracing every line on my palms. but this time, I let it dance. for itâs the first thing I have touched, that hurt a little less.. than chains.












