My skin is sticking to the flesh on my bones, but only because it's where you prefer it to be, because I would shed my skin for you, bury my bones for you, burn my flesh for you. The sky is withering and wilting into a million colors and you are staring, and all I can look at is you and say "It's because of you, it's all because of you."
Your breath is stringing together a million words and a million phrases that make me want to scream, but I am shouting into the wind and it is tearing at my skin and my words, and everything I am is torn to pieces, and the sky is fucking burning,
and you're just staring and I want to say
"It's all because of you, and your colors, and your eyes, and you, you, you."
But nothing I say makes a sound, and all I can do is move, and move and hope that you notice something about my bones shattering in the air.
But the sky is burning, and I bet it's more miraculous then everything I am shattering and recollecting, shattering and recollecting,