tornheart – I. Construct
– The gentle breeze of the spring morning nudges against the blinds. They vibrate, a staccato rhythm in the dim light breaking over the horizon. I wake, the temperature of mist frozen on my body. There’s blood on the pillow, the one propped under my upper torso. My heart is torn and my eyes strained. Breath makes me quiver with my own staccato rhythm. It has been said love and pain are the same emotion. The difference, the magnitude. This explains why, when you love someone an impossible amount, and you hold them close, there’s a wailing in the heart […]