taunting,
like my childhood bully
on the blacktop
of the elementary school i once attended.
poking me all over.
tormenting me.
the mocking laughter.
kicking me in the ribs,
until i ran out of air.
that's what our memories
feel like

I squirm in my seat.
The pricking of my dreams,
Like a long…
Slow…
Lazy drag
of a soft feather along my back.
Tormenting,
And ticklish,
As all those little stinging secrets
Start to come pouring out.