guess we're doing shakespeare now

JUSTIFICATION:

"the more I try to think of a good case the worse it is, she just has the vibes to me and I love her your honor" - Anonymous

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

sweet thing, i would hold you gently. i would, i would-

for you, i would crack open my breast. i would take from the mess and the blood my ribs, and whittle them into bars. like this, i might build a cage to keep you in, a bed to cradle you in.

won't you take the sugar from my palms and the kisses from my lips? won't you love me? i would bring you the sweetest treats, the prettiest sticks, the shiniest rocks to decorate that cage with. you would want for nothing, for nothing at all, not even the night sky, or the branches of your birth.

just-

love him?

love that?

I plucked from the guts of a beast a sweet thing, wide eyed, naïve. Gorgeous. Willing, and meek. Bowing before this bitch.

I sent you a gift, a soft, cushioned boy, his heart stitched into his sleeves. Not a callous on those fingers. Not a snag in that voice.

Just sweetness.

I should have known that sugar rots. Softness gives way to fouling, swollen with the eggs of some ravenous thing, making of the ripest of plums a vessel-

Eating it whole, from the pit to the skin.

You would take it, squirming and fat with puss, and set your lips upon it? You would give tongue and heart and life to that dripping maw?

Never speak again. Never rage again. Never rule, certainly.

How long, you silly thing, until he sees your mother in you? You've my rage, darling. You've my airs.

One day, he will no longer think you beautiful. That bosom will grow cold. He might not yet hear the shriek in your voice, or see the stomping of your feet for what it is, but he will. He will take you, and he will worry at your hems until you unravel.

Oh, sweet girl of crumbling thread and lace, how long until your sweetness, too, will rot? Until you rave and rage against these bars you are letting him stake all around you?

How long, my daughter, until your love names you bitch for the running of your mouth? Villain, for the snarling of your teeth? How long until he steals from you again?

Your father did, after all, and he was so, so sweet when first he took me.