ruby wreck.

we start this story by ignoring the plum ripe bruises in the courtyard and carefully planting the missing teeth in the warm soil. the sun is shining, somewhere, but not on the wasted ghosts of this town. each one will kiss you as you pass them by. you never have to ask.

other customs include the spilling of inky black from the roots of your hair and that nice smooth skin on the inside of your left wrist. if you see that traveller naked in the forest, do not ask her where she has been. not unless you truly want to hear it.

ask, but only if you will hold that old piece of sea glass and walk across the three ravaged lands of home. do not forget to leave your shoes at the door.

read this from the outside, the voices say in the distance. read me from the outside. they won’t tell you twice.

we’re walking on and you’ve lost the thread of understanding. don’t worry. i’m holding it for you, wrapping it between my fingers and waiting for my skin to turn cold like the look in your soul. sharp objects and dangerous eyes. they say it’s always like this in the evenings.

i found this place on the last day of the world, watching the sun crash while the bats flew past the molten stars to eventual destruction.

just like the rest of us.

in the morning i find you in the bath three hours before noon, humming at the grey clouds on our faulty skyline. this place is pulling at your fingernails. it’s leaving paint on your precious face. you have to make it out of here.

in the bathroom mirror we see the old you, waiting for a new moon that isn’t coming. i have to see you make it out of here.

because you are the voices and you are in the mirror and you are the traveller, my ruby wreck, heaving guts and bleeding our memories and eyeing the blade like it will carve you out a destiny.

two months ago there was a speck of gold glitter on your right eyelid and you never saw it, but we all did. i’m kicking you out of this town with my emerald in your chest. instead of clawing it out with torn fingertips, let the veins branch out around it and bathe in the moonlight. we all need time to bloom.

the love you seek is all right there, safe between your knuckles. and if you must look back at me, give me your glasses to hold. these blurry snatches are for the blessed alone.

[Image: A little heart seen outside a train station in Melbourne. Source: Dani Relbyn. Used with permission]