mallory

I used to write about pain
The sadists, killers, vampires, and phantoms
That always wanted to consume my love
That I allowed myself to be consumed by
How blinded, dazed, and stupid I was
Then, armed with my masters
Write about how I survived
These constant attempts
To shatter my soul
Growing haughty and ignorant
I expel my love onto an unwilling
Unsuspecting
Unprepared
Victim
How desperately I want to rip your skin
Open your ribs
And expose your heart
Sink my teeth into your body
And drink your life
Take your sun
Breathe the messy hair
The warmth in your face
The smell of love and sleep
Take your moon
Your demons
Your solitude
Eyes dripping with shame and death
And love them
Saturate myself with your being
But what happens
When you are the one
Destroying them
Crushing them
Drowning them in your soaking love and affection
She lies bloody, broken, used
The splinters of her soul stuck deep inside my fingers
“what is wrong, my dear?”
Irony dripping from my lips
My face in her mouth
My hand
Choking
Smothering
Her heart
“I just don’t
want to feel it
anymore”
She replies,
Breathlessly.
“feel what?”
Silence
As thick as her bones
-Before I broke them
Barely audible,
“anything”
She says.
“anything”
I repeat.
And by anything
I think she means
my love