Do not think me delicate.
I am anything but delicate.
My tapering fingers will find purchase around your throat,
And they will show you how delicate they are as they crush your windpipe.
I will flush my tiny body against your quivering one,
Until you feel the steel beneath my skin,
Your eyes will widen in fear as you realize
That my bones are not made of glass,
That they are stronger than your weak will.
My soft lips will curl into a razored smile,
Baring teeth the color of bones picked clean.
I will look past your paper skin,
And through your hollow bones,
Picking up the stuttering of your heart.
I will watch as the smirk runs off your face,
Pooling down around you in a puddle of arrogance turned terror.
You will look into my eyes and realize they are not filled with dew,
They are as hard as diamonds that will cut through your condescension,
Tearing your words to shreds.
I will show you that delicacy will not be found in the hard lines of my body
That you mistook for soft.
I will show you what delicacy truly is
As I tear your world apart.