Slow races, fake finish lines.

Her fingers reach out so tentatively. Almost like she's afraid of being struck. She begins to speak but it is so low you must lean in close to hear it. Then she grabs you. Screaming the things you wished you never would hear again. Stop it! Stop it! You scream. She cradles your face while rubbing her thumb over your cheek. She looks at you full of malice and glee. You belong to me. No matter where you go, or what you do. You are mine. I will wait for that first crack to appear and pound at it until it all comes crashing down. Her voice becomes sickly sweet. Then I will leave you to rebuild. You will think you have won. A laugh bubbles out from her cherry red lips. But you thought wrong.   

Love,

Riki Ana