Untitled

sad-woman-bed-lover_400x295_70

He spoke,

She cringed,

His words falling across her back,

A strap,

made of syllables.

He spoke,

She faded a little,

Examining every utterance,

For signs of worthiness in his eyes,

Being that which is least offensive,

And hopefully that which is unscathed.

She was a that.

He spoke,

She died a little,

Shrank a little,

Became less luminescent,

Everyone noticed,

Nobody spoke.

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About Michelle Toussaint

Michelle Toussaint is an Antiguan who has amassed an Associate Degree in Science Education as well as a Diploma in Forensic Science. As such, she Teaches Science in the classroom as well as at home, where she leads...er... co-leads The Tribe. A merry band comprising her Husband-The Chief, herself-The Priestess, and her three precocious children- the tribesmen. When she isn’t mothering, teaching, being a fangirl or feeding her chocolate addiction. She writes two blogs. Random_Michelle and Death By Expectations. View all posts by Michelle Toussaint

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