Literature
Draco
It was the unwritten poetry
dripping from her eyelashes
that made me love her.
She was a sinking ship,
and I longed to descend
into the watery depths
of her eyes-
just
to see
how long
I could hold
my breath.
It was the bruises sleeping
on the curve of her hips
that called to me like hungry sirens.
Licking her salty lips,
I traveled the scattered freckles on her back.
Shaping an angry dragon as if together,
we were part of the sky, all long-limbed,
tongues and teeth- she whispered,
"Do you know the story of Draco?"