The Guest
written by: Zairheen Marie Nuñal
Her evening guest arrives in quiet sadness and it feasts on the crumbs of bygones and “what ifs.”
It presses on her chest with concrete boots, forcing honey-coated daggers down her throat.
She offers it a seat to loosen its grip but the shadow pounds in her head a half-dead beat.
The mockery of a dance, the wistful cry, the bloodied battlefield; the guest now rests its head between her broken ribs.
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