I wish, some days, that it had been harder. Harder
to dig my claws into his lamb-soft
flesh and rip away the innocence he wore so
proudly.
I wish I hadn’t listened to my father when he told me that boy
was a monster. That he deserved to be ruined
beyond recognition. But the moment I saw him, I knew
that he could be good
in ways I couldn’t. Jealousy clamped my jaw shut;
I wish I was like him, however
revolting the thought. Thinking back on it,
I could have loosed my grip when he cried out.
I could have listened to his doe-eyed look.
I could have stopped.
I could have heeled.
I could have.