Bedroom

we are monsters together,

huddled under the bed

of our childhood selves,

keeping each other warm

when there is nothing to eat

but nightmares.

 

we both fear the same things;

food, sex, loneliness.

that is why our monsters get along so well

(i see the same kind of monster in you

that you do in me.)

i am not scared of you

because i have known this monster all of my life,

i have known you all of my life.

 

us monsters thrive on fear

on cold, on frozen limbs

and frostbitten lips.

i eat the taste of cigarettes

off of your tongue

and my belly rumbles.

(it is not enough)

 

i fear for the day

that your monster grows too big

for it’s skin

and you burst apart at the seams,

dripping bullet-riddled viscera

on the bedroom floor.

 

i fear that i am the one

feeding you bullets

like vitamins.

 

you come to me with the

remnants of your last hunt.

48 hours this time

my instinct is to offer praise,

tell you a job well done.

but as your sleeping body

whimpers on the bed,

i know that i cannot be the one

to worship your bony ankles,

to sing praises to your thinning hair,

falling out in clumps into the sink.

i cannot give you what you want.

 

you came to me asking for help.

i could only respond:

“it’s okay, i’m a monster too”

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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