Shadow
In the grime and the grease of the subway station
It stretches out to greet me,
sliding up my back before I can scramble down
to the tracks,
cold, nineteen, face of granite,
rigor mortis, twenty-three, smile of cardboard
when I'm buried alive beneath him,
trapped in shame's straightjacket,
when my head is hanging over his shoulder,
stuck in PTSD pillory,
choking on cheap leather,
gagging on shadow,
unable to utter to this boyfriend that there is a monster I don't know
with its many needled teeth drilled into his neck,
unable to whisper to this stranger that there is a monster I know
tethered to the soles of his cleats,
who has been feasting off of him
for the past few months,
who has been latching onto every man I've came across
for the past five years.
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...
