I have been staining her old sweater white and red,
Pouring drops upon it like a multitude of lacerations.
An oil spill like the words I never got to say,
This feels like retribution.
Sometimes she hums in my head like a spider,
Sometimes I am dazed and wonder how we were so blind,
Tearing at each other’s throats when love turned anger,
One day we simply stopped talking.
I have been eating her favorite food.
Savoring taste without guilt.
Fruits no longer blended with decay,
This feels like picking up the pieces - and saving them for another day.
ABIGAIL ECKSTINE (They/She) is a 25-year-old queer writer of novels and poetry, parent-to-be and the founder of Cauldron Anthology. Most recently they have been published in Catatonic Daughters and Alternate Route. You can find them on Twitter @whimsywriter3.