Heat builds and burns just beneath the surface of my skin
And yet, you feel nothing
“It’s in your head,” you say, meaning to be reassuring
Not understanding
Skin feels pulled too tight over sharp bones
That strain against
Prison walls built of sinew and boiling blood
That freezes over
Shooting a chill through the body, creating fog
That blinds and confuses
“Focus,”
you snap fingers that don’t feel
Stiff and broken
Within wary-weary veins rages a battle leaving behind
Battered corpses of my cells
But it’s internal this battle and you only see
The physical
I lift up these skeletal hands costumed in flesh
To apply blush
Over dead skin, move these lips to form words,
“Smile, pretty girl, don’t make a sound
They can’t and don’t
Want to see
Your pain.”
©KaylaAnnAuthor
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Great work. My wife has this and I’m gonna share it with her. How’s the book coming along?
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Thank you so much Johnzelle!
It is coming, although I put a bit of a pause in it this past week due to unforeseeable distractions, but I plan to jump back in ASAP! Please tell your wife, I sympathize with her struggle.
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Very nice.
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Thank you!
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