What She Would Say

There was a place I used to know
Or a thought I used to keep
Locked inside my chest and I had the only key

I thought it was safe
Chained in a small box next to my lungs
Where you couldn’t see it

I didn’t lose my key
Or give it away
But you found it anyway

Now I can’t see
This place I used to be
Where I hid my thoughts

My wants, my needs
They’re all gone
Lost in a dirty shovel of snow

And rocks
The shovel dripping with grime
And splatters marring the soft white

I didn’t lose it
You took it from me
And ground it in the dirt with your heel

Like an old cigarette
Burnt out and useless
You sucked in too deep

It’s gone, so gone, I can’t even feel it
Like the yellow light you stole
From my back porch

“And where do we keep the bodies,”
You asked me once
And I blushed

Like a silken thread braided and knotted
Against the pale flesh
Of your throat

There was a place I used to know
Where I was safe
And so were you

Where the lightening didn’t stride
Across your eyes
And the thunder didn’t cramp in your jaw

I’m afraid to use my key
That you’ll be inside waiting for me
And escape isn’t in my cards this time

You’ll light me and smoke me
Like some cheap cigar
From the bottom of drawer of your file cabinet

And I’ll be stuck
Stuck like a laminated post-it note
Between the leaves of a folder

You’ll thumb through your files
And find the folder of me
And think fondly of the way we used to be

While what’s me is gone

~ Jessica Slavik