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Marco’s fingers scroll and massage as he works my skin. I feel him wipe at me, smudging blood down over my ribs. Skinny ribs. They wrap around me like claws, straining to escape thin flesh.
I want to see Marco’s scarlet-sodden cloth again. It is tinged; stained with his colours. Vermillion fights with jaundiced yellow. Umber, burnt and orange spreads into azure.
Exquisite art coils around me, creeping in at the sides. I see tendrils at my waist, tickling as they rise and fall to stroke my limbs.
I moan. It stings.
He rests a hand upon my naked shoulder. I don’t hear his soothing words.
It is done.
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My soul was yours until my saviour found me. Marco’s inks and Marco’s spikes replaced my addiction, eased my obsession.
You led me, forced me, dictated my every move. You took all of me - then left me alone - desperate for you.
Now, my back covered in Marco’s own vision of my personal demon - caged and bound forever - I defy you. I need never see your face again.
Get thee behind me…
Lily - the imagery in your stories is great and the writing is almost poetic. Great work and nice to see you about.
ReplyDeleteHey David! I've only just posted this!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the encouraging comments - good to hear from you too.
All the very best. :)
Great work Lily. Seconding David above -- hugely poetic, very dark, and somehow moving too.
ReplyDeleteAlways happy to read your stuff.
I reiterate the above and the word 'spellbinding' came to mind.
ReplyDeleteGood stuff, Lil.
I can't remember the term, but I heard some people see words in colours - I did reading this. Amazing work Lily.
ReplyDeleteCheers Matt. Synaesthesia.
ReplyDelete