Friday Fictioneers: Valentine
For Friday Fictioneers, Madison Woods‘ 100-word picture prompt challenge.
My lungs grew to accommodate you,
my chest no more a dry whisper
Your toes like berries for me to pluck and swallow
the redness of your tongue
is the only youth I crave anymore.
I hide in the canopy of your arms
seeking shelter from a made-up wilderness.
I trace the bumps of your back
and taste the curve of your inner ear.
(do you nurture her, the way you do me?)
A foreign mark, an alien smell
I should have sensed
that you were no longer pure.
At the market I saw you two holding hands,
I could feel the parts of you in me
– rotting, growing sour, shedding brightness –
and when you came home
dark and jovial as always
I could feel my insides explode
and I lie next to you in bed
out of my pores come leaking
the things I no longer need.