Ribbons

Sometimes what holds us together can also be what tears us apart

I recently hosted a writer’s meet where I conducted “An Intro to Horror”. Being my third session, I finally felt confident enough as a host to share my love of horror. I have such a fondness for what this space has become, and running it alongside women I love and admire has been incredibly fulfilling for me. So, here’s what I came up with at this session, and I hope you all enjoy it.

Photo: Mao Hamaguchi

There is a ribbon
Threaded through her limbs
It holds her frame together
From skin, to bone, to skin

This fragile piece of fabric
Is a black ligature on her frame
Cascading across her body
In little rivers of shame

It’s parasitic the way it strangles her
Weaves throughout her corpse
But she cleans the gore and the blood
Because this ribbon makes her secure

It pierces through her supple flesh
It’s coiled around her bones
It’s holding her together
But she cries in painful moans

She does not see it fray
In some places she’s held by thread
She deceives herself of its wearing
For she fears it means her dead

Her world has held up candles
Licking at where she’s weakest
Trying to singe the seams
Just so she can fall to pieces

Without her torment she’s naked
Her body will be her tomb
If there’s no more ribbon to hold her
Her mind will be consumed