we are predators merely mating for the night
for
at dawn you will leave
and
i will be
cultivating this monster of ours
in this barren womb of mine
alone

two months of glass and rusty nails
and we are both finally alive enough to feel the burn that is growing in our stomachs.

you are growing bigger.
and the days are growing closer.

i can feel your little devil horns poking holes in my lungs
as if it was yesterday.


there is no love in this child
because there was none put into it.

you came in november
when it was cold
and
i held you to my chest
like loving mothers are supposed to do...right?
and you feel so cold, child
you feel so cold.
there is no rhythm in your chest
and no sparkle in your eyes
you don't babble
or coo
or breathe
you just stare aimlessly into the stars
listening to the pitter patter on the rooftop.

still
-
born.

climbing out of your fleshy cage

shell
shocked.

jaw unhinged as if you don't know how to speak
and
of course
  you don't.


it's
as if your existence itself tore the world apart.