The Cutting.

I can feel the
whip hit my back with the rhythm
of your footsteps as you walk
towards the door.

 

And my mouth strains to move,
to make a sound to call you back,
but as I feel the whip cut again,
I can only fight to breathe.

 

My hands grasp at nothing
as I fall to my knees
on this cold wood floor,
and the whip cuts again.

 

I feel the blood run off my back
as my eyes finally well over
and I let out a strangled cry of pain,
you slam the door shut behind you.

 

The whip cuts again.

 

 

Author's Note

I have absolutely no idea. I found this hidden inside one of my USBs from last year. This might have been an assignment about metaphors.
Hmm.
This shall bother me until I figure out what it is.
Hmmmm.

Reviews

[Marie Anzalone]

Oh I've been there all right- as I read your words, I could feel that lash cutting me, the way it does every time my BF walks out on me and disappears because we disagree on something. Nice work!

[Mason Vail]

That's some powerful metaphor... Even -I- got it! ;)

With the details of what has previously passed hidden, the imagination has no problem filling in all manner of confrontations. Well done.

[Ahmad Alhour]

Well formed.
And of course there were integrated metaphors already!
I also liked the situation it describes...

[poetic soul]

bloody dark !!! this is such a moving piece!! could feel the whip, cutting and cutting again.. lovely work there..

:)

Regards,
Poetic Soul