not two curved pieces folding into each other
it has nooks that no one’s ever told you about
it shrinks and then explodes
with something thick and awful and necessary.
it has nooks that no one’s ever told you about
it shrinks and then explodes
with something thick and awful and necessary.
it has valves and doors and windows
and you crawled in from underneath the floorboards
you poisoned the water
you hid yourself in a crevice.
and you crawled in from underneath the floorboards
you poisoned the water
you hid yourself in a crevice.
you hid where my fumbling fingers could not pry you
loose
where I could not rip your leeching flesh from me
without first tearing away fingernails full of my own vein and tissue.
where I could not rip your leeching flesh from me
without first tearing away fingernails full of my own vein and tissue.
my heart pumped you through me
until you became part of the system; thick and awful and necessary
until even my toes needed you to survive.
until you became part of the system; thick and awful and necessary
until even my toes needed you to survive.
and that’s how it went for minutes or years
I don’t know
but one day you slipped out
you creeped out from the chimney or the front door
you left and you never asked, never told me where you’d go.
I don’t know
but one day you slipped out
you creeped out from the chimney or the front door
you left and you never asked, never told me where you’d go.
not here though.
not in that unreachable place
in that corner of my heart.
not in the place you ruined inside me.
not in the place you ruined inside me.
you tore those veins and tissue fibers when you left
and all your poison turned sour
seeping down until even my toes
ached with a rigid bitterness
I can't get free from.
and all your poison turned sour
seeping down until even my toes
ached with a rigid bitterness
I can't get free from.