3:16AM
Recorder clicks. A breath. Then—
-
So...
I let it happen.
-
Not because I was lonely—
though maybe I was.
Not because I didn’t know better.
I knew better.
-
But it was there.
And it didn’t blink.
And it didn’t beg.
It just waited.
-
And I thought—
if I could touch something wrong enough,
maybe it would burn the rest of me clean.
-
It didn’t.
-
It filled me.
With heat. With silence. With teeth.
-
And I liked it.
God help me, I liked it.
Even when it stopped feeling like pleasure
and started feeling like revelation.
-
Now I sleep
with the light off.
I listen
for footsteps that never come.
-
And every time someone touches me,
I wonder—
can they tell?
Can they feel
what's still inside me?
-
Because I do.
-
I still do.
-
click.
About the Creator
Iris Obscura
Do I come across as crass?
Do you find me base?
Am I an intellectual?
Or an effed-up idiot savant spewing nonsense, like... *beep*
Is this even funny?
I suppose not. But, then again, why not?
Read on...
Also:
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Keep reading
More stories from Iris Obscura and writers in Poets and other communities.
Iris Diaries: Dressed Naked
I’m standing in a subway car, packed shoulder to shoulder with strangers, one hand clutching the bar like it’s the only thing holding me to Earth. It’s hot, sticky, and suffocating - and, as always, a couple of assholes are staring me down like I’m dessert at a buffet they’ve already paid for. Can’t say I blame them entirely - short white hair, a tight shirt that doesn’t hide much, and legs that get way more attention than they deserve. But let’s not pretend they don’t recognize me.
By Iris ObscuraExclusive • 11 months ago
the magic of kindness
Homelessness is hard But one act of kindness can Thaw even concrete —————— The older I get, the more I become very well aware of the privilege that I grew up with. There is no greater privilege than to have a roof over your head and food on the table every night when you come home from school or work. It might seem as though it’s a given or something everyone has when you’re young and naive, sheltered from some of the more harsh realities. But the older I’ve become, the more I realize just how singularly lucky I am. I might not have the means to eradicate homelessness, but I certainly recognize how lucky I am to occasionally have “extra,” and I will do as much as I can for as long as I can to give to those who may be in need, as encouraged by my kind and ever generous parents.
By Mikayla Rose7 days ago in Poets
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶2 days ago in Petlife
Comments (4)
You have such a way of writing about the dark things that make them so thrilling, almost tantalizing. "It filled me. / With heat. With silence. With teeth." What an image!
Oooo, this was so deep! I freaking loved it!
Sending positive vibes and hugs!!!❤️❤️💕
This is raw, visceral, and profoundly disturbing in its honesty. The line, "if I could touch something wrong enough, maybe it would burn the rest of me clean," is devastatingly insightful. This comes from the core of my being, moved by a story of darkness and desperate longing.🌞