To know a man’s library is, in some measure, to know a man’s mind.
Sometimes when you open a book, time stops.
- Me: *sees book store* *looks to friend* *shuffles towards bookstore*
- Friend: no.
The dark. He eats me. He watches me. sometimes. I feel. Him brush through my hair with his beautiful claws. He whispers to me. Seduces me. “Come to me” he says. I kiss his cheek and say “not tonight” but he pulls me closer. “You know you want to” he says. sometimes. I see. Him in my mirror. Glaring back at me with his blackened eyes. sometimes. They are brown. “I can’t” I say. sometimes. I do.