When I was a girl I built a fort with the sticks and stones he threw at us. A man with black eyes and pointed teeth ripped off the shutters.
He stood in the middle of the rubble.
Fear not, my tears make great cement.
I watched you for years between the cracks of my little castle, wondering when it would be safe to emerge and I never found the right time. I’ve repaired the shutters, the walls are upright and I’ve added a fireplace.
I don’t know if he knows they’ll follow.
Demons have wings and there is no corner of earth or mind you could hide, where they won’t sink their teeth 6 feet deep. I hope they don’t. For his sake. For ours.
And as I emerged to say goodbye before you began your final journey, I realized the man with the black eyes and sharp teeth hasn’t been around for years. And you’ve been out there alone.
Now I am alone.
An echo of you
A reflection of those black eyes and sharp teeth and I have to pull the weeds at just the right depth so that they don’t grow back.
There’s a painting of him on my wall so that I don’t forget. I’d invite him in now but he still won’t wipe his feet.
I’d invite him in now but it still feels like a demise I’m not ready to meet.