you dip your fingers into the hot pan
You tell me it’s not hot
You’re not hot
The pan is stone cold
And I am just pretending
That your fingers are blistered, bleeding
Burst with burnt skin, orange and red
“No, I’m really burnt, but it doesn’t hurt.”
You will switch your fingers against my glass face
You’ll caress my agonized eyes, watching you tremble
Under my embrace
“I am so goddamn sick of supporting you and your writing.”
You’ll say
But then
“The problem is that you need this validation
And I’ve tried to destroy
Your writings our whole relationship…
Isn’t it?”
You forced me to agree
That the pan is
Stone cold
When your fingers are blistered
Trembling
Like you’re so cold
The fire is burning us up
And it’s winter in here
Grab a scarf & mittens
For your normal looking hands.
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More stories from Melissa Ingoldsby and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Path to Salvation
The late autumn evening air filled the monk's lungs, but it wasn't the season that chilled his bones. The heavy-handed presence of evil he had sensed upon entering the woods surrounding this mountain village had not bothered to conceal itself from him.
By Made in DNAa day ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
I think its pretty safe to say We got you!
Sad and slammed it came through loud & clear!!! It's time to give you some hugs and some cheer!!! Left a 💖 💖💕
The struggle with those voice, both internal & external. Clap those hands & rub them together to warm them up, Melissa! It's time to write!
Oof. Gaslighting is such a complex challenge to overcome. Very real piece. Sounds like you’re still in (or near) this relationship. Any way to be of support that would be helpful?
Such sadness, loss, and agony. The metaphor is haunting. Stunning piece!
Nice piece 😉💖