i can hear your secrets from here; neatly tucked in, sung a lullaby before you whis[per] goodnight. you lock the door behind you, rest your forehead on the white-painted wood and pray for a restless night.
whose name brushes your lips? what’s that one memory that you shove down but keeps coming up?
i can hear it in your voice–so casual when you mention a nightmare. a monster who lurks at the edge of your bed, do you shut your eyes tighter and pretend you never saw the claws and sharp teeth?
i wanted to be there for you when you slayed your dragons, drowned the moats, and burned the castle that hoarded the wealth of your fears. would your hands have been slick and wet or dry like summer grass from weeks without rain?
i heard you, that one time. you ran out of your house to escape the voices. you stumbled, blinded by the hazy memories that only become clearer when you cried.
on your knees, by then, you were gone. another dimension, another hell, you writhed on the floor until the banshee’s gathered around you and danced.
i wish i could have been there to comfort you. i would have held you to my breasts and swallowed you in pieces. i want you inside of me. i want to absorb the pain.
i will rip my body into two and harbor you into the safe haven of my heart. my body will be your heaven your concert; listen to my blood rushing, doesn’t it sound like divine music? unite with the pulsing beat between my legs. sing along; allow the theaters of my mouth to be filled to capacity.
i wanted this for you but you never answered any of my calls. you fell off the earth and landed flat on your face. your secrets stolen from you, you took what pan offered you and drowned yourself in hedonism and pliable thighs.
how can i forgive you if
you cannot even look me in the eyes?