She gripped the stomach in her talons and pulverized it
   until the victim was gasping for air
and then its jaw dropped open
and saliva spilled out
   as its forehead wrinkled in the most unpleasant of ways
and it sat there in its car
and then it uttered a noise
a noise incoherent and pathetic and gut-wrenching
and in that moment humanity didn't matter
the victim reverted back to its animalistic ways
and tried to **** in air through constricted canals
and it coughed in between its heaving
and spit flew from it's mouth
and its stomach tried to jump from its body
but the trachea wouldn't allow it
and the sobbing continues until the victims head rolls to the side
and it's eyes shut
and it's all over
for now

Lying in bed she feels his touch
                                            in the crook of her waist
A heavy arm in the space between
                                            her ribcage
                                                   and hip bone.
She feels his hand,
                     gently on her shoulder,
                                             with fingers encasing her rotary cup.
She feels the weighty rise and fall
                                                   of his
                                                             b
                                                                 r
                                                                    e
                                                                       a
                                                                           t
                                                                              h
                                                                                  sooth her back to sleep.
She feels it all,
                       but, upon turning,
                                                      finds nothing but apathetic sheets.

The entryway to the soul.
The root of warm feelings and kind eyes.
The enemy.

So why had it happened?
Was it a simple mistake derived strictly by folly?
Not a chance.
It was premeditated, but
The words still stammered forward, sharp and jagged.

My poor mouth,
  teeth
Trying to cut sentenced short
  tongue
Gagging on expanded syllables,
  but my larynx
Still snaking words up past
  my uvula

I wished to lap the fragmented sentences back into my empty stomach,
but they had spilled forward,
                                  dried,
                                  and hardened,
like blood pumped through the body too long and finally exposed to outside air.