I made a monster
out of just a man.
He was my lover
my man.
He was my demon.

I was a ball of clay
for his hands to
mold. To mold my
innocence.
I was his clay
monster to make.
I was his halo to break.

But with the venomous
teeth he gave me,
I bit my creator.
I bit my  teacher.
I bit the hand that fed me.

He made me small.
To cradle in his arms.
He made me weak.
To break in his hands.
He made me small.
to make loving me easier.

He’s taller than I remember.
His shoulders are wider than
I remember.
His face is rounder than
I remember.

I remember his hands.
how scared they were.
I remember his eyes,
How they looked like
red velvet cake.
I remember how my
skin grayed.
How my eyes dulled.
How my hair grew
thin.
I remember how he
changed me.

As a clay ball I
dryed and I stopped
being some beautiful
creature.
He bit me back
with his bigger fangs
and arsenic poison.
I never got used to the
stain. I never built up
a tolerance to you burning
me.
You poked hole in my skin.
So I wouldn’t break when
you put me under heat.

I could feel how you
were baking me.
Perfecting me.
Keeping me forever.

So I screamed. I broke
free with the wings
you mistakenly gave me.
I refused to be
your monster. And you
refused to be my man.
My venom built you into
a demon.

And like a dove I left you.
You may of found
pleasure in the
breakdown of my DNA.

But I was ashamed
of the monster I made.