I don’t know how to take compliments.
They burn my hands like dry ice
Cold and blistered skin peeling off
As I stare at the offending words across my palms
Thank you is supposed to be the salve
But the words die before they can crawl past my teeth
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Compliments by Idgie Stark is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
