battleground – when the walls finally split open
shadows spill
like blood from a vein in heaven,
thick and pulsing.
i claw at the air—
but it moves faster—
my prince, locked in its sight.
Grief uncoils,
a creature made from every night I didn’t die,
every scream i swallowed
until it soured in my throat.
it lunges,
and i meet it
with my bare hands—
ripping,
cursing,
howling like an animal
who has learned too late
that love is not armor,
only kindling.
i am fire
and pleading.
i am mother
and meat.
i am every name
Grief has ever whispered
before it fed.
my eyes flick up
and meet their mirror,
tears dew along the rim.
“mama—”
i choke,
voice splintering.
“always—
comes—
for you—”
the Beast
bites through my ribs.
i whisper through blood,
“always have—”
it swallows the sound,
my lungs,
my name—
“always will.”
the world contracts.
my body splits
like a prayer denied.
light hemorrhages.
memory convulses.
his laughter
flickers,
stutters,
dims—
until only the sound
of feeding
remains.
