The Book of Kelsey

I.  His skin was purplish-brown like a decaying Canna Lily.  Sometimes he brought red flowers and they too decayed like lily skin. Dried bouquets of history dangled from the ceiling, wrapped in rope made from my veins.  Their petals were flesh pulled from my body to show me beautiful things.  On the nightstand sat a cracked … Continue reading The Book of Kelsey