Photo by Warren Umoh on Unsplash
You got me reaching toward twisted.
Glazed by smiles that unlocked my heart
Only to be locked in yours.
You held me in your palm.
And you closed your fist.
You gaslighted
my pure will
to fix
you.
About the Creator
Rachel Steinmetz
Written expression is emotion at its peak; delve into it.
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More stories from Rachel Steinmetz and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Dryads are Calling
They say the forest by Phoenix River sings. Perhaps it is just the wind howling through the leaves, or a particular birdsong. But Percy Fisher knows better; he knows what lies in those woods, and he knows that the forest sings of his demise.
By Leigh Hooperabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Dang that sucks. I can feel your hurt though this. Nice job.