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...
Copyright © Isabel Serrano Hoogsteyns | Year Posted 2013
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