You thickened your skin until it was armour. Poured yourself into the mould of something else as if it would keep you from harm and wielded smiles like knives. Made even your mother believe that this shell was deeper than a hair’s breath of water. He words bounced like ping-pong balls, plastic and harmless.
When your laugh became acrylic, like the nails you gauged down the chalkboard with a voice that wasn’t your own, something fractured in this friendship. We became acrylic. We became snappable.
I was at a bit of a loss for what to write this morning in response day three’s prompt:
Skin – Prose Poetry – Internal Rhyme
The prompts themselves were not the issue, mild exhaustion is and honestly, I’m craving the weekend already so I can spend some time curled up in bed with ‘American Gods’ by Neil Gaiman and not have to worry about anything else for an hour or two.
So here is my mildly exhaustion contribution to Day Three.