she was all lips and hips and
empty words spilled onto the table like a jar full of house keys that didn't open any one single door.
she used to throw the keys off the table and tell me;
you aren't going anywhere because there's nothing out there for you. this is as good as it gets, this unconditional life that requires nothing from you but to exist for nonexistent purposes.
I used to stand behind slammed doors, and hear her demons growling in her ears
I remember, at first, she'd try to get them to quiet down because I was in the other room and she didn't want them to frighten me
but after a while, she got comfortable
and so did they
they'd walk into the bathroom and leave the shower curtain open
they'd puke in the sinks and leave the oven as high as it could get
they'd roll themselves up in my sheets and cackle in my closet
they'd punch holes in the wall and shatter lightbulbs
there was always evidence of them there, but I never quite saw them
for who they were.
I guess that I could say the same for her