Heel

i don’t know why you’re still here.

another long summer day

in a one story home.

less of a house than a thing

left abandoned at the end

of a cul-de-sac.

more of a body than a vessel

made up of mold and

mildew.

another girl growing into

another girl

who stares at popcorn ceilings

and suffocates herself in

well-worn carpets.

as if this

is a normal way to live.

another bad dog

in a rotten kennel,

biting the hand that feeds it.

that will always be you,

won’t it?

taking it while lying down,

against better instinct.

so tell me—

when the floorboards settle,

do you still feel

the hair at the back of

your neck raise?

do you still chase your shadow

down the hallway,

searching for

some semblance

of a family?