Monsters
Why is it always the monsters we love? The tie you down, strip you down, look you up and down While salivating type of love. Is it because our faces that reflect broken porcelain and ivory Yearn for the flames to melt us down and mold us ‘right’? The flames that they stole from our bellies when our daddies weren’t looking? Disappointment once more I suppose, in a cyclical fashion. A self-righteous disappointment with nothing to show for it but Missed senior nights and dance recitals. But when am I going to learn that these monsters aren’t the ones Our mommies read to us, the ones enticing us to slumber. No, They are the ones that call us ‘Princess’, ‘Baby’, ‘Queen’. They are the ones that say they’ll show up and never do. They are the ones that call you annoying. They are the ones breaking your heart.