The collected works of Heather Chapin

No matter how much you poke and prod and stick me; I will not scream. I am made of glass so thick-it's impenetrable. You can run your fingers up and down my skin. Trace my every flaw with the repercussion of your lips.I will not feel it. My sense of ignorance is entirely blissful. I prefer the ice creeping through my nervous system. I prefer the steel caging my heart, locking me inside myself. I prefer the still silence in my brain. And I wonder, I wonder what it feels like to love and be loved back. To find myself in the still waters of another persons thoughts. Love.​