crimescened:

THE MONSTERS AREN’T REAL TODAY // s. mardon

you’re asking me
to write about monsters,
but no, honey, that’s
already too real for me.

i’m rasping out each word -
does that bother you, yet?
when i’ve had one too many
smokes today and each breath
is a little bit harder to draw in?

you’re asking - telling - me
to tell a story of shifting shapes
under the bed, of shadows
always in spotted in the
corner of the eye,
but maybe it’s too much.

maybe i just need to tell
the story of how today i
got out of bed and it felt
like god’s greatest miracle.

i’ll tell you about the monsters
another time. please, baby,
just let me breathe tonight.