Whispered Secrets

Skin, dark as the night sky.

Rounded daggers highlighted by hair, 

the colour of frost with the softness of silk. 

Whispering its secrets, 

Whispering its warning. 

Do not come any closer. 

It scratches but doesn’t stab. 

Stings, but does not bleed.

it fears ruining a flower so pure.

But all thats needed- 

is a scrape. 

A tiny little prick.

Why didn’t you listen?

Can you taste the poisonous tang

as it travels through your body?

You should have listened,

to the secrets it shared. 

Because some secrets- 

are deadly.

– Ashleigh Tucker

Published by ashleight607

I'm a 23 year old studying writer with Cystic fibrosis. I have two cats and a dog and live in a small town in the Highlands.

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