I have not seen my home in a long time,
I hope you see the venom on his crooked teeth before he poisons you like me,
It may be years since you two last spoke, yet your hands drift over the keyboard and write his name into the search bar on social media. You notice he changed his profile picture from the last time you looked at it. New shirts that he didn’t own when you two were together pop up in his pictures now. He still wears the one band t-shirt you bought him. You tell yourself you don’t care but still wish you could rip it up with your bare hands.
I was four years old when my mom told me the story of a goat she had. Adventures of a premie who lived in a tote at the foot of her bed because she was born in too cold of a month. My mom named her Lisa.