I want a confection shaped like my cold dead heart. The chocolate must be darker than my soul. The glittering frosting should reflect that troublesome twinkle in my eyes that betrays me every time I dream up mischief. I want twenty seven tattoos decorating the flesh asylum I am locked within. But above all, I wish to love myself as much as your eyes love me. I wish to be kind to myself the way your heart is gentle with mine. I wish I could hug my worries away the way you so valiantly do. But for now. My prison of skin loves yours with madness and mischief. Thank you for giving me everything and loving me fearlessly.
The prompts for this story:
Copyright 2019 Klaudia Grady