• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 02

LA CHUTE

Cold rises from the ground.

White death, bare and flat,
permeates my falling
skin,
infiltrates
bones. The drop inebriates
the body as your
exhale pierces right
through me.

I will grow underneath
the colours of the forest, slip
down streams
that witnessed the haunting
of our love. I am a knight
bleeding
slowly, surrendering
an armour to the fire, dancing
with the moonlight.

You gave honey to these lips.

But your winter spares no one.

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