Zoe and Asja in the yard

10 meetings in Hell

Your eyes: pieces of empty fire.

A strange fire, one that scours you inside out.

A fire that doesn't burn, but like dry ice, it leaves twisted thin scars, so fine
no one sees them. But they burn. Without end.


A year passes.

The fire grows without control, burns in a rampage, then retreats.

Gaining strength from the distance, from a lack of air,
it comes back a hundredfold to
again burn the scars leaving new ones, deeper and finer

forever.

Destroyed.

By this past year in Hell.

With you.

owned

He took
the only 2 things that belong to me:
my words and my body.

I took them back:
the one, silenced, and the other, broken.

He still owns a piece of me.