his voice,
his laugh,
the blade glistening against the dark pigmentation of his skin,
"stealing from me... again? you already know the consequences."
the rolled up toxins,
my own cumulous
c l o u d
smushed beneath his
barren feet.
right next to his smashed bottle of
t e q u i l a.
YOU ARE READING
touched ✓
Short Storystory #2 in the 'for the flawed' series. tw | abuse every night you held me. making me feel disgusting, because you were the s e c o n d to touch me. © 2014 flawed- (lowercase intended for stylistic purposes.) [Jan 16, 2015:: #2 in short story.]
