She Talks With Monsters

This girl never had a fear of monsters.

She allowed them to rest on the insides of her eyelids,

the crook of her neck, and the empty spaces of her chest cavity.

She had no fear, there were much scarier things in this world

then darkness clawing at her back.  Living for the night

she etched her dreams upon the bars of her cage

whispering of centuries past because she truly missed the sun,

grass on her back, frosty Decembers have her forgetting

what it feels like to love, but she knows who she is—

she doesn't need the taste of cigarette ash

suffocating her inside her own flesh.

November skies tore open this night,

ripping a hole in her bedsheets.

And, it is in those dark spaces between

bone marrow and heartbeats that she finds herself-

tattered and breathless, whispering dark secrets

into a strangers ears.  Her origami limbs folding

like patterned paper and reaching desperately

for the sun kissed frills of Apollo's robes.