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
Compliments by Idgie Stark is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.