I’m Angry, and I Never Know What to Do About That
Watercolor stains bloom on my skin as my heart splinters ribs and releases seeds throughout my bloodstream, and it’s impossible for me to tell if the throbbing flowers are justified. I’m told I’m both naïve and read too much into things— two violets form on my ears— but that’s because a playful pinch and a sucker punch produce the same purple-blue splash from my weak capillaries. So I let cornflowers bloom over my lips while morning glories crawl between my fingers because better to bruise than to bleed ribbons of cardinal plumage, red, with a life all its own. To contain bruises under saturated watercolor skin and pray it doesn’t rip.
Megan Griffith is a freelance writer and poet based in Dayton, Ohio. Her work has been featured in Highly Sensitive Refuge, The Mighty, Mock Turtle Magazine, and more. When she isn't writing, she's usually dying her hair, re-watching Parks & Rec, or making silly faces at her son.
Twitter: @meganwritesit Instagram: @meganwriteseverything
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