In the mundane she finds the meaning of existence. Black water, metal, precious traces. She understands the necessary chemistry of body and soul. She is a poet, a catalyst, a muse, an artist.
There’s a scar running down her back. A welt of sutured skin tissue. It is his map of desire. He likes to trace along it with his fingers. An after sex or shower activity.
Reclamation. Built upon the foundation that already exists. You the architect and I am the workhorse cementing words. Rendering notions of a shared previous history.