Revenge: it's a dream of flames fueled by scorched remains that are lit to a torch and brought back upon the one who burned you.
My skin has the crinkled appearance of wax paper that someone has tried to flatten and reuse. My eyes fail me often__n the darkness, when headlights flash, when rain falls. It is unnerving, this new unreliability in my vision. Perhaps that__ why I find myself looking backward. The past has a clarity I can no longer see in the present.
The Nightingale
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My skin has the crinkled appearance of wax paper that someone has tried to flatten and reuse. My eyes fail me often__n the darkness, when headlights flash, when rain falls. It is unnerving, this new unreliability in my vision. Perhaps that__ why I find myself looking backward. The past has a clarity I can no longer see in the present.
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