Free Write: Weaving Your Feelings

Desperate. Pursuing. Yearning. She follows you to your car, with her sweet touch and the soft melody of her voice. You’re coaxed. She has you hanging by a thread, and she’s weaving it. She’s creating something with your weakness. Her fingers dance across the delicate intricacies of your weaknesses to create something regal out of you. She wants to make you into a sweater so she can wear you, clinging to her torso and begging to keep her warm. Intoxicating to be able to gain control and manipulate your feelings as if they were her own. If she had any, they’d be moldable, too, but they certainly wouldn’t be warm. They wouldn’t hold you tight on your coldest days or comfort you in your own weakness. If you were lucky, they wouldn’t freeze your heart insideΒ your chest.

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