I fold into myself
bony elbows stabbing the soft flesh inside my knees
burying my hands in my dark hair,
I ball them into fists
my fingernails gouging half moons into my palms
salty rivulets burn streaks down my face
and splash onto the worn blue bathroom carpet
I gulp for air
in between the silent howls
that rack my body
and escape my trembling lips
Insistently, I press the heels of my hands
to my scalding eyes
seeking to dam the flow of water
My jagged breathing slows
I swallow hard
Spent and dizzy, I struggle to stand
Rinsing the evidence from my face
I steel myself for the outside world
prompt: This week I want you to conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season- whatever you like.
But don’t tell me what it is, conjure it.
Author’s Note: This was a scene from today, crystallized and conjured to let you in, to visualize what I look like when I’m in pain. It’s really scary to hit publish on this one, but it wanted to be written.