twelve

her

i walk the streets, alone.

nostalgic to my pillows,

carriers of my tears,

to the moment they will

embrace my head

as if to say: "it'll be okay,

you've survived the day."

and i think about

south, the way he

reminds me of home;

the feeling of dancing

in the rain and scattered

kisses.

he can't love someone

who is broken, can he?

-

there are footsteps behind

me, and i quicken my pace.

"rooose," sings a voice that

makes my blood turn into

ice, "didn't your mom tell

you that walking alone

can kill you?"

the monster under my

bed crawled out of the

dust and is standing behind

me, claws ready to tear

through the blood stained

bandages i put around me.

-

him

i reach to my phone,

ready to call her in hopes

of making sure that she's okay.

but i set my hand on the

mattress and close my eyes instead.

perhaps we need space

from each other. perhaps

she needs to be away from me.

i wish i could save her

from the crazy demons

that haunt her nights,

but i can't.

(little did he know that on his phone, the picture of a smiling blonde girl appeared. a line underneath it reading: rosemary :)  calling...)