Runaway Rogues - unfinishedWe are the runaway rogues from the haven of pastel dreams. We were the children of milk and skin and upholstered lounge sets.Runaway Rogues - unfinished by tiffchin
As the crisp morning light bathes my face, - my eyes awash, my nose smells the sunrise still, my tongue tastes the slow creeping of winter - I smoke a cigarette from the pack we stole last night from that lonely store. Inhaling as if air was my last redemption, exhaling as if holding on to my last breath, I squint at the coy sun to watch you swim. There on the turquoise bed, you lie naked with your back arched to float and to hold pearls of water between the slopes of your breasts. Your eyes are closed, as if you are sleeping; only the clouds billowing out of your red, swollen lips betray you and the cold.
Me, I am behind the layers of peeling wallpaper, behind the door with what once was gold spray-painted numbers of Room 19. I am warm, but I've always been the one groping around for scraps of comfort while sitting behind the wall of doubts, the wall with layer