Sour, that's how she remembers her demeanor. Coy smiles and tight jeans gave her power. They couldn't look away from her. She spun webs and her lies sounded like truth. Who would question that? Who would dare?
Sour, that's how she remembers feeling. They liked to watch and that made her crave touch. But touches felt toxic to her skin. No, she demanded their attentions, affections. And they gave it to her freely, the sour girl playing with emotions. Rough edges, biting eyes, she was an unacknowledged demise.
Sour, that's how she remembers it all. She played with toy soldiers much too tall. They looked and looked but never touched. She should be grateful...right? Sour giggles, sour smiles, sour memories, sour lies, they loved the sour girl and all the sour times.
YOU ARE READING
Wasteland Deity
PoetryA collection of poems, short stories, thoughts, etc. Trigger warning.
