just like I knew you had guts--
pretty, guileless ones
that fell off the turnip truck of your silly white bones
and onto their points, like ringers.
You knew I breathed fire,
just like I knew you breathed smoke--
trying to make yourself into an ethereal angel,
soft and white, impaled on a stick
and turned to ashes right under my nose.
image by Lolamouse
for Real Toads weekend mini-challenge