the city

Cut

I hear it outside my window,
calling to me in the night.
It whispers in my ear,
telling me I'm next.

I hear the rope snap,
it's broken free.
I can't escape
the ghost of the old me.

I tried to kill her before,
cut her out of me.
Cut my wrists,
tried to bleed her out of my system.

I pushed her off a tree,
wearing a rough brown necklace.
It cut off her breathing,
but I didn't mean to do that, did I?

The floorboards creak,
I hear the slap of her bare feet on the ground.
She's coming for me,
and I can never hide.

Her eyes are milky white,
dead and empty.
Her disjointed hands rap on my door,
begging for me to let her in.

And for some reason,
I invite her in.
I feel her cold hands around my neck,
as she pulls me in for a hug.

She lays me down,
tells me its okay.
Says she's sorry,
tells me she'll never go away.

And when the night is done,
she rises from the sheets.
I slip my hand into hers,
she lets out a low growl when the sun rises.