See me through

See through me. See me through. See the difference? You’re right, there isn’t one. Don’t do too much, I say to myself, over and over. Take a deep breath and don’t do too much. Less is more and don’t do too much. Never give up and don’t do too much. Lock the fuck in and don’t do too much. In the last abyssal crunch of empire, I am a blacksmith’s daughter. I am up early and ratcheting up the rat-catching. I am not repaying my debts. I am slamming my hand between hammer and anvil and lifting, with a rancid expression, the pulsing baby blue up to the last of the lamplight. You bought me then, lies and all. You fell for a girl so sour and so sweet. In our fight to the death, you reach for my face. But where’s the bill of sale? Reach into your pocket and find only a peach pit. I am not perfect but I swear, an angel could have sweated no better. My mind ribboned itself and began to flow, like blood but better, in a quest to inhabit my body. Every drop of nectar knew where to go. Saturating…