Pluck.
The string get’s pulled away, the tension feels tighter, the pressure builds and it stays. The release of the note never fills my ears, the vibrating motion of the string being released from my fingers and hitting the band of the instrument never touches my finder tips. It stays, tense, hard wired, pulling, cutting off circulation.
I take a deep inhale.
I take another pill.
I let his hand slide down my back. I don’t tell him that every touch stings, shocks, slowly slices through my skin as the blades dig deeper and deeper.
I don’t want him to think that he his causing the pain.
I hold.
I wait.
I roll.
I wail.
I wait.
The fluorescent lights sting sharper than his hands did
The monotone typing of the keyboard while they input symptoms.
‘i’m sorry. there isn’t anything we can do for you.'
to going back to rolling
wailing
waiting.
the string grows tighter
the band slices through me
as the fog rolls in the
the perpetual motions
where I plateau
and he is here
sharply pressing his weight
until I can hold my breath long enough to stand up
to slip my clothes on
to walk out the door
pretend the sting doesn’t bother me anymore.