Long Poetic Titles Really Aren't Necessary.

Wednesday August 8, 2018 (5:25 pm

I'm back at my grandfather's house

There are almost twelve people in the front room

I'm on the couch

My legs are crossed and my older brother is next to me

And I remember the box

The tears on my cheek that aren't my own

And I'm right back there next to it

There is a new feeling mixed in with the sobs now

It's deep into my stomach

I recognize it

"Why are you scared"

The sobs get worse

I walk toward the box

There's a small hole in the top

I peer inside

There is where my other side lays

Curled into themselves

Retched sobs leave them and land in my chest

I know it's not me that's doing this

I look at them and can't help but shrink in on myself

I call out to them

The sobs stop but they're still shaking

I can feel it in my bones

They answer back with and inaudible "what"

I could somehow hear them

Like a voice in the back of my mind

"I'm coming to get you" I force the words out of my throat

I back up

All of me is focused on the box

I run, as fast as my crumbled legs will carry me

My body collides with the box

A loud crackling screech makes its way to my ears

I hadn't realized it before now but the air was plagued a horrid smell

I recognized it

Blood

End.