An affliction of prose

Tearing into the pliable flesh for the first time was exhilarating, the freeing of a caged animal. She took the blade and took another slice, slow, hard, deliberate. No pain until the blood rose to the top of the skin and then the brain’s realisation kicked in and sent a twinge of pain. A tweaking, nagging sultry throbbing that sat just under the sticky substance. She stared at it glistening in the candlelight and tried to question her actions, question her reasoning yet she could not explain she merely knew that the crying had stopped. Instead of tears there lingered a stillness, a release of hurt and pain into something beautiful .. serene. Instinctively she lifted her arm to lick the blood from her being and tasted the sweetness in her mouth that calmed her last few sobs. She watched in wonder as the clean slit of skin refilled with a scarlet trace of angst as her lungs inhaled deeply. The scent of the oil burner filtered through her senses, invading her nostrils, her mouth and she sucked the scent into herself and exhaled. As she sat on the floor with her back pressed to the door she felt a peace that she had not felt in a very long time, maybe not ever. The simple act had managed to encompass the guilt, the hurt, the anger and transform it into a liquid serenity. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve she looked at the floor strewn with used tissues and felt her eyes tired from the lamentation. The mirror propped against the wall reflected the candle burning which had darkened the room yet only helped to highlight the redness in her eyes. She sat watching the flicker of the light for a short while until a soft rapping at the door alerted her that there was still life outside her room.

Some writing pulled out and shared on inspiration from Lori over at Rattling Bones

Go read her post – HERE – It’s a good reminder of how we shouldn’t assume 😉

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