Teeth

The past

sinks its teeth in deep,

leaving dark, jagged stains on the pages of

all the journals I’ve ever written and reread,

touching the yellowing pages gently and

feeling uncertain about whether I was

the one with the pen in my hand.

 

Now I’m grasping at straws,

fumbling down the dark hallway to my room where

I jump quickly into bed,

fearing the monsters underneath.

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