In response to Photo-Fiction #12
Don’t touch me lest I bust,
splintering into fragments,
a million tiny pieces of me,
that won’t let itself be put together.
Don’t probe me,
even gently,
no digits need invade my space,
lest I be deconstructed into all my constituent parts,
and all that is left,
is what’s left of a shattered self.
Don’t touch me lest I become aerosolized around you,
and float on a breeze to a better place,
better than this that would have left me for dead,
after,
it,
happened,
in the quiet clearing,
sun streaming thought the trees,
I though these things only occurred under the veil of night.
This invasion of self,
the forceful taking of something precious,
When happenings took place that leave you,
not quite broken,
but too sensitive to be touched,
lest you burst…and there is nothing left,
but the beautiful memory,
of a rainbow you used to be.
November 14th, 2015 at 4:41 am
[…] Death By Expectations: Fragile […]
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November 14th, 2015 at 3:48 pm
Wow, Michelle. That is very, very powerful… When happenings took place that leave you, not quite broken, but too sensitive to be touched, That can apply to so many even covertly traumatic experiences in life. Loved this.
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November 14th, 2015 at 11:41 pm
Thank you, I was hoping it would, especially wit 16 days of activism coming up.
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November 15th, 2015 at 3:07 pm
What activism?
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November 15th, 2015 at 5:31 pm
Our Ministry of Gender Affairs is putting on a campaign called 16 days of activism in November, aimed at stopping abuse against women and girls. I think it’s an international thing, but this year, I find myself becoming involved with it in a more personal way.
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November 16th, 2015 at 11:46 pm
I’d better google that.
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November 15th, 2015 at 3:06 pm
I love the contrasts in this, making the violation so much more powerful.
You inject an ethereal quality somewhere in the middle, and then you punch us in the guts with “This invasion of self.” You paint a brilliant picture of vulnerability.
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November 15th, 2015 at 5:35 pm
Thanks Jane.
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