Zipper
I yank the zipper up my jacket,
up my heart,
and it snags on the memory of when
I had realized that your neighbor had
unzipped so much more than denim
with a violence that no seamstress could salvage,
stole so much more than virginity,
and am almost fueled with enough rage
to propel me back to 2013,
when the dark of the woods was
as starless and hideous as his snake-slit-eyes,
the chill of the air as invasive as his hooves,
to tear through the butcher paper of your giggles
and swallow the stretch of his squeals mixed with screams
and shove my fist,
every glass finger he crunched,
through his rapacious snout.
YOU ARE READING
Paint Us Gray: Part 2
Poetry(This is part 2; please read part 1 first!) Rejection. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Grief. Unfortunately, we've all had a swallow, some more than others, of this bitter brew. This is just a sliver of my chapter that is a part of this world's grand nar...
