Unanswered

They combed the old forests searching for you,

They stared at my arms, looking for a faint bruise.

I could feel the rage, could feel the daggers landing.

How could all this wrath come from something romantic?

They cried for seven nights while counting my breaths.

Remind me, honey, was it something I said?

I saw them stealing my sanity like it was a drug.

Tell me – do you love this grave that we dug?

-Jackie