Why didn't I use my claws that one night

content warning: allusions to self harm

My fingernails are sharp; claw-like, saber

toothed. They leave crescents in skin like a waxing moon. Did you know they can scar - when I put my fingernails to use?

I have dug them into my skin - a quick motion just like I did with a pencil sharpener blade. I can't cope when my fingernails are blunt. Just like a woman in self defense from their partner.

I am such a poor thing; defensively like a lamb - a butterfly caught in the hands of a cruel child. I am a deer mourning its dead mother - the shotgun now pointed at the fawn.

I had followed you, more than once actually. I saw you in a light. A bright light; not once diming. The sun in the morning. But - it turned out more to be the burning of witches in 1692.

Don't look at me like that. I have the claws of a frightened cat but the love it has hidden underneath heightened emotions. My heart is burning - my eyes are closing.

You kept looking at me despite me feeling fear. Could you not see it in my eyes? Could you not feel my stiffness? Could you not hear i didn't say anything.

I am blessed - blessed to have taken the apple as the snake had watched me. My claws tame when I should have drawn blood.

image doesn't belong to me