Our Words Will Keep
Sep 2, 2018 · 1 min read
A Microfiction

Our words will keep inside our tight-fisted hands. Hands on dolls and scraps of tired, washed out dresses. Can you not see the message of my downcast, circled eyes? The sudden intake of breath when you come too near? The flinch at sudden noise? I am trapped behind the bars of childhood and there is no escape.
Do you not notice my utter stillness when he enters the room? I fold in on…


