Flowers were known to gleam, glow, overshadow the bits and empty pieces of spaces, pieces of blank, void, nothing. Flowers were meant to be pretty, look pretty, and not hurt when you pucker out your lips to bask with it with a pretty kiss. But then the flower blooms out and you pick out it’s thorn to tear I or you, and you are left wondering, fanning, and babying your your lips. I was a flower, in the midst of all the thorns. The more I wanted to kiss, the more I was hurting. I only noticed a slight difference was starting to bloom in me when I stared at the mirrors and my hips was standing out wider than the usual, with the bit of space I have Alaye wanted in between. It was surreal, the feeling of being compelled by what I had always envied. I shatter to get suspicious when my cheek bone had affirmed to come out and the little fat chin I had was nowhere to be found. I panicked, a bit. I wondered yet again, like this kitten flower that I was, what was happening to me? The thing is,
Last Updated : 2022-12-09 Read more