By: Michelle Valkov
My body lingers its pale skin.
The cold, sticky mud wrinkled my bones,
Into pigments of dust, mustered into cones.
Death was something I felt, and lived.
No sound, and no light to look to.
Not a dream, I already knew too.
Faint noises driving my insanity.
A real nightmare vanity.
I can’t get out, I’m too scared,
And too frightened to care.
An agitated part of my corpse disturbed by a crawler,
no feeling if it bites, and my world getting smaller.
This is an antic,
No longer frantic.
My eyes are out of their sockets and my brain no longer in my skull.
I need to push and jostle.
I only dream someone might one day discover me, a fossil.
No one will hear me, even if I shout.
I hear a jeer that panics me from inside out.
I’m a big mess, twisted and distorted.
Deformed and contorted.
Consumed to the very core.
I have distant memories of being attacked.
I was murdered.
He didn’t care and made me grow up too fast.
This haunts my past.
My future captured and thrown away.
He shall pay.
My mind can never be at ease.
Am I hidden forever?
Find me please.
Bio: My name is Michelle Valkov and I have always loved to write. I was born in Washington state, my mom was born in Russia, which at the time was USSR, and my dad was born in Bulgaria, so in a way, I’m like a mixed child. I can speak Russian fluently, and a little of Bulgarian. I love the beach, sunny weather, long walks, music, reading, and my favorite, watching classic movies. I haven’t seen the snow in about 9 years, and I’m not complaining. Florida is my vacation, for now. Traveling Europe would be a dream come true.