Here’s a thing that I wrote.

Draw me.

Run finger tips and small lips

Over a landscape of twisted bones.

 

Don’t worry.

And I exhale.

A song plays with a chorus of ‘run’.

But my eyes are closing,

My heavy head is falling.

 

Let’s just rest here for a while.

 

You know I could go if I wanted to!

But what’s an empty threat

To a room full of patient embraces?

Fine.

But you can’t make me say it.

 

I’ll hint, infer, and lead you to believe,

But fear is a disease.

Emotions induce choking.

Do you really want to kill me?

 

Know in my voice.

Feel in my trembling.

When cheeks turn pink and eyes are down,

Imagine my lips making those sounds.

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About dochasann

Twenty years of trials and triumphs. Sociology major living in NYC. Overly cynical. Witty when I feel like it. Obsessed with my puppy.

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