If you want to understand
how a body becomes a stained-glass stranger,
look at how it starts.
He clears his throat,
a low sound like a molting cicada.
His eyes,
wasp-nesting irises,
stripping my skin for the softest break.
His smile,
underfed ticks,
lurching for flesh.
And he took it.
He took it with a heavy fist
scooping brittle collarbone,
crushing
the simple ease of a clean breath.
This stained-glass-winged creature,
carrying a crimson stain I never asked for,
can still hear his hunger.
I can fly, but he is still there,
somewhere,
loudly gnawing on my dirtied skin
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 3:07 PM UTC
If you want to understand
how a body becomes a stained-glass stranger,
look at how it starts.
He clears his throat,
a low sound like a molting cicada.
His eyes,
wasp-nesting irises,
stripping my skin for the softest break.
His smile,
underfed ticks,
lurching for flesh.
And he took it.
He took it with a heavy fist
scooping brittle collarbone,
crushing
the simple ease of a clean breath.
This stained-glass-winged creature,
carrying a crimson stain I never asked for,
can still hear his hunger.
I can fly, but he is still there,
somewhere,
loudly gnawing on my dirtied skin
