From time to time my body succumbs to unyielding silence that falls over curves of my being. Stoic I become - contrast to eternally wandering fingertips and marionette of my smile. The lie cleverly within spaces between fabric & flesh. Winter, cold lover - your stamina drains my flesh & carnal self.
- circa 5 minutes ago, me, with drained light grey-blue fingertips
I hate Reynaud’s Syndrome. So fucking much.