Creeping up my fingertips like frostbite.
Sharp tingles
Invading my senses.
Prickling the soft tissue that connects my arms and shoulders.
Fanning out in electric waves
Encircling my tattered heart
Compressing it like a fist clenched in fear.
My lips do a sort of inner reverse sparkle
As if they have fallen asleep
and are intermittently returning to life.
My “gift”, my curse.
My body can feel it coming
Before the words are spoken
Before they’ve been constructed.
Words are like magic.
Sentences make up spells.
Cast them with care.
Leave a Thoughtful Comment
Read 0 comments and reply