It was late at night when I picked up the highlighter and glided the tip across my skin. I conveyed every part of me through layers of writing, doodles, and smudged blue fluorescent ink.
I pulled away
and admired the dirtiness of my
hands.
It was always an
untouched blank canvas.
Now they are beautifully
tainted.
Maybe it's better to be a mess from continuously expressing oneself
than to be put together.
Maybe it's more alluring to have blue coat one's hand than to have it
hidden as veins.
One thing I know is that I can't spell messy without me. Can you?
YOU ARE READING
Snippets
Short StoryThis book is filled with ideas that didn't want to be anything more than snippets of something that could have been. Original photo: http://alabamachanin.com/journal/2012/06/lie-still/
