In the mirror, I watched his words blossoming between my breasts, his ink claiming my heart. I felt our truth—in flesh and bone, I was still mine… but I was his in ink.
Before you, I wrote,
merry-go-sorry ruled me,
my words were wary.
Trepidation (an old friend)
wonders what you ask of me.
the wee notes…
– To read other installments, visit my Web Serials page. The tales are listed under Ink and Feels. This is almost the end… I’ll post the last bit this coming Tuesday.
– Written for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (where Paul howled, “Awhape me!”), and for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 (she wants kickass words and world peace).
– Awhape means to amaze, and merry-go-sorry is a mixture of joy and sorrow.