This poem was written by freelance contributor Maggie O’Byrne
When we were young
the wolves siphoned marrow from our bones,
and convinced us it was love.
Our imaginary friends turned into
an inverse, Alice in Wonderland nightmare
as we learned to walk alongside your demons.
The monsters under our beds no longer compared
to the haunted forest of your presence,
which we lingered long after you had left.
When we were young
loyalty was bought and sold
to the highest bidder,
the ones whose honeyed words
cascaded down our bodies.
Those lies stuck to us;
grains of sand getting caught
in our sun cracked skin,
turning up long after we
tried to wash them away.
When we were young
we learned you weren’t really a wolf at all,
but a scavenger in a ten-cent costume.
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