The Game

There is a thunderstorm where your ribs were once cracked

Where I snapped them like wishbones to take out your heart

There’s a tsunami in your veins, flooding out from your eyes

Did you crush your own heart, dear, to feel less alive 

There’s an ache in your stomach, you spit out bones and wings

Force it back down your throat, dear, get back down on your knees

Did you break all your fingers, the day you touched him? 

That should teach you, little girl,

Not to play games with me. 


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