Not To Be Used

Not To Be Used Isabel Serrano Hoogsteyns Tickling began to contour my face Cold destroyed the water The windmill enforced in pain I felt powerful Velocity, the verse of my whole body Moving in a single direction Follicles covered the air There was a sour sound, like the one of metal clinging Boom! A sudden stop His face was a fresh grass after a long night sleep Up and down, this flesh was his Nonetheless, not to be used Not to be touched The red around them made my heart untangle Discover the power of a single word Except, to notice this wound was gone...