THE BLACK WIDOW DEVOURED HIS FEELINGS

THE BLACK WIDOW DEVOURED HIS FEELINGS

A black widow lived inside his chest,
behind the bones and skin,
she built her web around his heart
and quietly moved in.

She ate the love he tried to give
before it reached his tongue,
and swallowed every tender word
while it was small and young.

She drank the tears behind his eyes
and left the sockets dry,
so people thought he felt no pain
because he did not cry.

She wrapped his anger up in silk
and hung it from a thread,
then crawled across his memories
and fed upon the dead.

Each morning he put on his face
and buttoned up his coat,
while broken feelings scratched like flies
inside his aching throat.

Nobody saw her waiting there,
her legs around his soul,
turning every piece of him
into an empty hole.

He tried to love a woman once,
she placed her hand upon
the place where something used to beat,
but found the feeling gone.

“I know there is a heart in there,”
she whispered through his skin,
but the widow heard her loving words
and slowly pulled them in.

The black widow devoured his feelings
until one thing remained—
a tiny drop of tenderness
she could not reach or drain.

It rolled beneath his ribs one night
and landed in his eye,
the man who never showed his pain
at last began to cry.

His tears came down like thunder,
they tore apart her thread,
and every feeling she had swallowed
rose up from the dead.

The black widow left his body
when his heart refused to hide,
for even the darkest creature starves
when love still lives inside.