No strings attached

That’s what she said to me as fingers scaled flesh like the jagged outcropping of mountains,

daring to be conquered and explored with the appeal and fervor that comes from the unknown

Little did I realize that with each foothold buried into rock, she left tiny marks that would remain unnoticed and recalled through teasing memory

The smiles, her laughter, every witty remark and calculated effort exerted to draw me closer and closer

Out in the open, just as my eyes close in complicit vulnerability all that remains is the fading impression of fragrant perfume

Every time I try to withdraw I discover the hidden strings ensnared in my flesh;

If not me attempting to pull away, she reels me into her clutches, continuing to exhaust my resolve as I slowly cease to struggle and she imposes herself,

unable to utter the one syllable I scream over and over in my head.


Pessimist Poet’s Words For Thought

“I just want to sleep. A coma would be nice. Or amnesia. Anything, just to get rid of this, these thoughts, whispers in my mind. Did he rape my head, too?” -Laurie Halse Anderson