Trepidation

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.

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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.

This Lingering Maybe

I carry his voice on my skin.

Earlier, between a bath and the moon, my breasts perked to his words. “I’m yours.”

I left the tub, entered the bedroom. “Were you talking?”

“No,” he smiled, “just typing.”

I walked away, wondering if his fingers had spoken this lingering “Maybe…” stroking the small of my back.

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the wee notes…
– To read other installments, visit my Web Serials page. The tales are listed under Ink and Feels.
– I shared 2 paintings with friends on Facebook, and asked them which one they wanted me to write very short tales about. They chose the lady below, suggesting that there is something about her expression that made them (and me) want to know more about her.
– I will (very likely) shared a 55-word story every Thursday. I want to make this series of tales as interactive (and fun) as possible. So… you, my Wicked Luvs, get to choose 1 of 3 possible paths: 1) The voice she feels on her skin is produced by his thoughts/feelings. 2) She is imagining the voice. 3) The voice belongs to a character we’ve yet to meet.
– Written for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55.

Nude, by Shelle Kennedy