and with a ragged metal key,
I sliced a mouth in my nylons,
only to find that they’d melded with skin,
and in ripping myself open to you I had unsealed my body,
carelessly peeled it apart.
through the fresh-teared skin,
came the things that live in the shadows of organs and bones,
the things that are only bearable in darkness,
I watched you turn away as they hit the light.
I threw the room apart in search of anything to fix the snag:
a needle and thread.
But I had forgotten,
in my haste to repossess you,
that my skin is not my stockings,
and the holes I leave are not so easily repaired.