The last time I saw her she was playing tic-tac-toe across the cement with her own blood
her spine curled over herself in an attempt to contradict all that she felt.
Her blood was still blue from the lack of oxygen she felt trying to be acceptable
She fills her body with substances to abuse
Filling the void of a long forgotten memory that still trickled down her spine in a subconscious dance
I was four years old when she took ahold of the ghosts living inside her tearing at her tendons and shot them to the stars.
but only to come back and fill her with darkness
The next time I saw her she had taken the form of a beggar on the street, my mother told me to not make eye contact
yet there was something about her that made me pull a quarter from my back pocket when she wasn't looking.
Sometimes I saw her in myself,
the ghost I predictably would become
The last time I saw her she was playing tic-tac-toe across the cement with her own blood
her spine curled over herself in an attempt to contradict all that she felt.