cinderella, the evil stepsisters, lungs and lips locked, pg-13marketchippieSeptember 20 2011, 21:53:12 UTC
LUNGS AND LIPS LOCKED
They grow up together, into each other.
The lace of her corsets is familiar as her sister's fingers lacing it up-then unlacing it, the trace of a fingertip along the red marks it leaves.
They know just how much pressure it takes for blood to rush under the skin, and how much to make it go away.
They grow up beautiful and tell each other with close, quiet mouths. Their corsets cinch them until they cannot breathe, but they learn through steady lacing that there are things to be gained from that slow, strangling feelings. Closeness is a harsh thing, secretly. But it is theirs, it is their mother and their blanket and their home.
At night they sleep cheek to cheek and wake up with their hands red and aching and dented from how they have clutched each other.
-
The third girl falls between them like an obtrusion, ashy and uncorseted. Their feet itch in their heels when she kneels barefoot next to them; their lungs ache as she moves like a little ghost around them. The nights find them lashing side by side in their sheets, strangling their cries with their hands. They wake up smothered in their sheets, in their pillows, in their skin.
Surely it is not so wicked to want to rub her away, like a red mark on pale skin.
(Like blood beneath, somehow she only gets brighter.)
Re: cinderella, the evil stepsisters, lungs and lips locked, pg-13selivia_wandersSeptember 22 2011, 05:18:28 UTC
Thank you for this. The corsets bringing them together, Cinderella dropping between them with her strange corset-free ways, their desire to rid themselves of her and only bringing her to the forefront more, it's all just so intense for just a few paragraphs. Just wonderful :D
They grow up together, into each other.
The lace of her corsets is familiar as her sister's fingers lacing it up-then unlacing it, the trace of a fingertip along the red marks it leaves.
They know just how much pressure it takes for blood to rush under the skin, and how much to make it go away.
They grow up beautiful and tell each other with close, quiet mouths. Their corsets cinch them until they cannot breathe, but they learn through steady lacing that there are things to be gained from that slow, strangling feelings. Closeness is a harsh thing, secretly. But it is theirs, it is their mother and their blanket and their home.
At night they sleep cheek to cheek and wake up with their hands red and aching and dented from how they have clutched each other.
-
The third girl falls between them like an obtrusion, ashy and uncorseted. Their feet itch in their heels when she kneels barefoot next to them; their lungs ache as she moves like a little ghost around them. The nights find them lashing side by side in their sheets, strangling their cries with their hands. They wake up smothered in their sheets, in their pillows, in their skin.
Surely it is not so wicked to want to rub her away, like a red mark on pale skin.
(Like blood beneath, somehow she only gets brighter.)
Reply
Reply
(Like blood beneath, somehow she only gets brighter.)
Guh. That is perfect.
Reply
Reply
Gorgeous things as usual :)
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment