'PROVE IT,' THEY DEMAND.
I STARE IN THEIR DISBELIEF AND MOCK; AND I WONDER...HOW CAN I DESCRIBE TO THEM THE BREATH SHE STOLE FROM ME WAS A BURDEN I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED LIFTED? HOW CAN I TELL THEM THAT HER BITE WAS EXQUISITE? HOW DO I RELAY THE FIRE IN MY VEINS WHEN I REALIZED THAT HER TOUCH WAS DIVINE? HOW CAN I MAKE THEM UNDERSTAND THAT IN THAT MOMENT SHE WAS UTTERLY AND COMPLETELY MINE?
I DON'T. I DO NOT OWE THEM EVIDENCE OF A TRUTH I ALWAYS KNEW. I DO NOT NEED TO SHARE THIS MOMENT FOR THE SAKE OF VALIDITY.
SHE WAS FIRE.
SHE WAS BITE.
'PROVE IT,' THEY DEMAND.
'NO.'
YOU ARE READING
Wasteland Deity
PoetryA collection of poems, short stories, thoughts, etc. Trigger warning.
