i will tell you this: the devil
is inscribed in the details. when you
haven’t spoken to someone
in months, it’s like greeting
a stranger anew; they are not
who they were five months ago,
or six, or seven. they are a
collection of newfound

cells and new skin and new ideas; they
are not the brilliance you once
observed at 3 am when they
were crying out their reddened eyes
over the fact you did not
love them like you used to. even
if they find some new person kissing
their wounds in a failed attempt
at intimacy, they may still latch
onto your once-love as a blood-*******

leech. the god of trickery and emotional
manipulation is named “my ex-
boyfriend” and i don’t think i like him
very much. “are you missing me” he
sighs to me over the phone, and i
cannot reply. if i whispered “yes”,
he’d grab my wrist and pull me into
his side again; if i whispered “no”,
i’d observe it devour him alive and
bring him into the warmth of a
broken heart.