Jellyfish-Woman

I am a Jellyfish-Woman. 

My skin is transparent, an open window to a network of diamond veins glowing in radiant blue, magenta and reddish purple hues. Electrical signals rushing through my nerves illuminate me like shooting stars the night sky. I am quite striking. Whenever I float down the beach, I am the beach, the beach is me. People stare in awe, but they do not dare reach for me, touch my waist, graze my thigh or grab my butt. They are terrified of touching me. They know when their human skin contacts mine, my tentacles will burn them like the sun a vampire and brand them like cattle.

Where bird songs are alarm clocks and bouncy lush green layers of moss are pillows to squirrel heads, I am a Rose-Woman. My legs shoot down into the wet earth like roots. My skin starts to prickle funny and then, prick! A thorn grows and sticks its sharp metal head out of my pore as if it has to break through the surface to breathe. 

“Does it hurt” the curious forest creatures want to know and I say, no, it’s like a mosquito bite but from the inside, but there’s never just one. Pop, pop, pop! Quickly I am covered in a sea of thorns like a studded leather jacket with velvety green zigzagged leaves shooting out of my head like ears. I just grow and grow and grow like a human magic beanstalk until my full head of golden hair is a full head of crimson petals and my baby pink skin is dragon green covered in armor that will draw blood like fangs. 

But out here, I am a Human-Woman, and my exterior is an open wound. My body does not have sharp thorns like teeth. Nor is my skin loaded with venom. I carry my beauty outside of myself like a beating heart attached to my chest exposed to the world. I am not repellent but magnet to stranger’s hands. Their fingers are starving mouths and I am fresh meat. They reach for me, grab me, and take me apart to the bone until I have no more left to give.