• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 11

on a thread

in our darkest hour

we cull the light,

deep cuts form

at the very edges

of my open mouth,

my hand clings to

the night's skin, until,

a glass red silence strides

out across the thin air,

I didn't notice your

feet frantically kicking

I didn't realise you had

grown into something else

dangling on a thread of time