he kept
his knives
hidden
under his bed.
he showed her
his scars
done by the monsters
in his head.
he thought
she'd leave
but she stayed,
undeceived.
there, he saw
the same monsters
that lies
beneath, inside
her eyes.
YOU ARE READING
coffee stains
Poesíathe cracks on this cup still remains, its stains still unwashed.
