Literature
Dear Monster
To start with, I will compose a letter:
Dear Monster under the bed,
Tell you I can still hear
the whispering after
a ten-year vacancy notice.
I'm sick of how you hold me down,
the way you shackle me to the bed,
bound by thresholds
cotton sheets cloaking every
drop of by fear-infused blood.
Heavy breathing,
chills down my spine.
Your phantom is pressing
down on my chest,
and I'm helpless,
stunned,
screaming,
waking to my night-robed mother
hand warming my pallid skin.
No memoryonly a voice,
(and I think it was yours)
asking where the monster was.
Are we afraid to forget
what might have been imagined?
I know you