at noon,
she cleansed her skeleton of the sting that incinerated her bones hours ago,
occasional streams of ruby
spiraling
down
the
drain.
the routine was simple.
one:
let him have his way
two:
polish her old coat of skin and zip it tight enough to be believable, the one she loved before she belonged to him,
and three:
paint on the face he gave her on judgment day.
SMILE.
"don't cry or you'll be sorry."
she'd fade into someone beyond her mind, a shell of herself that only took direction from him.
she'd let her hair fall in waves
because she knew it'd make the process go faster tonight.
and, she'd try not to pierce her flesh with the key that'd lead her to her soul's demise
because she knew she'd end up with more than just fractures this time.
About the Creator
Angel Davis
Author who loves writing in all genres of fiction & poetry.
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