Her skin was the envelope that you ran your tongue across before you pinned her paper-white thigh to her chest bone. I know this because you tried to fold me once. In a moment when you must have forgotten it was me and not her. You pressed my knee gently towards my shoulder before pushing yourself inside. The elastic of my ligaments was over stretched and I snapped.
Rachel Hughes graduated from Lancaster University in 2015 and was the recipient of the poetry prize for her graduating class. Rachel has one previous publication in The Student Wordsmith's journal The Purple Breakfast Review. She is passionate about poetry, short fiction and a couple of Schnauzers called Basil and Baya.