Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Autumn Whipple Feb 2018
blue and white
cast upon you
like rice at a wedding
they follow
wanting
lusting
calling
cursing
but how to ward them?
when you ache
and plead
with yourself
your empty bank account,
god
for something you find beautiful
in another
yes, the evil eyes are always watching
because
they are yours.
this was for a prompt where you didn't name the seven deadly sins, so this one can have every adjective but the word envy. I chose the evil eye, because that represents the stain jealousy casts on others.
"There's a target on your back,"
said the man in striped white socks and flip flops.
He swung his arms freely and slapped his face
accidentally or intentionally--his illness wasn't mine to name.

The trees wrapped their arms around one another in a huddle.
"Quick she's coming near. The target is close."
One. Two. Three. Birds flew by and splashed my forehead.
I looked back and felt one of the trees wink and point ahead.

A man on a moped waited until my back was turn and I bent down.
Whistle. Whistle. Head turn back ninety degrees.
You'll get in an accident, I thought; I secretly wanted,
his helmet-less head splat flat on the concrete, skin burning,
melting, bubbling, pooling in a puddle.

The red doors whined against my insistent grasp.
When I found my white door, I air twisted the **** that was
pushed back to show the open space inside the coolness.
I didn't live that cold. I didn't know how.
He did. And he reached into my freezer and removed his tongue.
I sank onto the floor and felt ice hit me my cheeks and my eyes and ears.
The blankets couldn't warm me. My tears couldn't melt what formed.

He tossed my key on the mat, kicked back dust into my face;
looked me square in the eyes frozen wide open, mouth gaping for air.

"I put a target on your back. See ya."

— The End —