Mimosa Pudica
Hannah Su Hepler The ground littered with words I’ll never say. The pulse tickling my throat tells me speak but I don’t. That red string tied around my ankle its grasp tight, almost suffocating. A constant reminder of being incomplete. I take silver scissors and scrap the thread. Its teeth unable to bite through. My soft palms get cut by the constant pulling. You stand before me, my dread in flesh. Red wrapped around your ankle. A pulse thrashes inside my heart. My eyesight blurs and beads of salt water fall off my face. Your hand reaches toward me. I danced to avoidance’s accord. The salt water dripped onto my pink lips but I wanted to taste you. I am heavily armed with small thorns. Thoughts of you creep into my mind. Leave me alone. I reach out to touch your skin but let my hand wither. Honey glazed breath warming my neck. I wish I’d let the vulnerability take over but shrinking is my only defense. Touch me not. |
Author // Emily BennettPart time journalism major. Full time cool person. Archives
October 2016
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