Posts Tagged ‘cutting’

Snapshot One
 
The wooden frame sits, a little off center in the half-lit hallway. Dust collected over time clings like a sheet to the glass, gathers in the imperfections, and sits atop like a crown of age. The faded gray sky hints at the yellowed sunset in the background, the curved edges turning brown as years lapse into decades yet still they stand, defiant and young upon the packed clay earth. The curves of the car in contrast to the rags that drape from their small frames as they lean back against it, his left leg bent, foot resting atop the tire and the wooden spoke wheel. Two teenagers with immortality in their eyes shade their faces from the sun with their hands. The sun that has taken life from everything as far as they eye can see. Behind them, in the distance, the dust stirred in 1932 Oklahoma.
 
Snapshot Two
 
Unframed we keep this one tucked away in the closet, plucked now for a remembered viewing it sits upon the white sheets of the bed waiting. From the top corner, we see a hint of her underwear as our eyes move down to fishnet covered thighs that have been pushed open by his face as he gently holds her left leg with his right hand. The right fishnet pulled down to just below his chin, the fabric bunched up. His love shown through closed eyes, lips slightly parted in anticipation, he presses his cheek firmly against the inside of her bare skin. The razor she holds in finger and thumb, the ribbon of blood just beginning to roll down from where the carbon steel meets the sweetest of flesh. He waits with vampire-like patience, lips parted in ecstasy, still.
 
Snapshot Three
 
The picture dragged to the recycling bin a thousand times and restored. We can almost feel the warmth of her touch on our hands as the light changes and washes over our hands when we bring up the picture. Her hair, how its curls cascade down, teasing and taunting across bare shoulders, disappearing behind her back in waves of red. Her eyes shine with a love that could never be matched. Even the oceans themselves were inspired to change their color to match her eyes in a previous existence. Happiness in the most vulnerable of poses she stands smiling, left arm across her chest, hand tucked under her right arm. In her grinning lips, you can see the mischief peeking through. Breasts revolting against her restraining arm in places to show their perfection. The darker more forbidden parts still safely hidden from view. The trust, the confidence, she will always be the greatest thing you ever let go.
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