She Calls HerSelf-Doubt

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this out of nowhere. It may be drab, but whatever.

Submitted: January 30, 2017

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Submitted: January 30, 2017

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She Calls HerSelf-Doubt

 

Today it was in the bathtub.

She came to me,

As she always does.

She seemed pleased with herself.

At least, that is how it appeared

With the way she flounced across the tile and,

With a smirk,

Dropped herself inside me.

“The water is pink,” she stated.

 

I nodded, moving my arms to make waves.

“It’s from all the rose petals.”

As my eyes followed those fluid disturbances,

Those uneasy shudders,

Those rhythmic blows,

She cackled.

 

“It’s not that.”

Why was her tone so sure?

“Your skin is just melting off.”

 

I looked down at my arms to find she was right.

Sleek, red muscle grinned

And the peeking bones winked at me.

 

Somewhere,

Far off,

I could hear her snarl.

“You’re just their meal.

Seasoned beef for their stew.

They won’t even have to chew you.

You’re not tough.”

 

 

“I know.”

I was surrounded by bloated, drenched flesh.

“I know.”

One of my left ribs splashed into the water.

“I know.”

My heart sank from my chest, landing on an epidermis sailboat.

“I KNOW!”

 

I’d completely dissolved by the time I stood up.

I could see myself drifting,

Riding the waves of a pastel pink ocean.

 

She left me then,

Satisfied with her work, I’m sure.

 

Exhausted, I pulled the plug.


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