“show me the parts of you you're not that proud of.”
i overheard him say to my mom yesterday.
ma's boyfriend always had a way with words.
he recited poems like they were post it notes,
neatly folded and tucked inside the crease of his elbow.
it always amazed me.
he always amazed me.
this house is made of broken bones and dried tears.
it stands on ashes.
it stands for ashes.
it's 3:07
he's sitting in front of me. ma's out.
smoking, probably.
he looks at me.
his smile turns wider.
i can see his long canines.
he crawls towards me.
“show me the parts of you you're not that proud of.”,
he says.
i reach in
to take out my heart.
but he
cups my knees in his claws
and throws my legs wide open.
