She was one for the snakes.
They might have lived without her.
She was one for my snakes.
I opened my palms to the grace of her
vices, it's simple, never know immortality. So
In my arms she lies
and she lies and she lies.
It’s beautiful bait, hoping I bite
And I do. I eat it up. I swallow it down
And I push it back to that corner where
the snakes writhe in my stomach, thrive off of her.
But it doesn’t settle, this time,
for the snakes know better. Last time,
she got them sick. She wants them fat.
They might. I don’t.
So it sits next to the snakes in the pit of my gut;
sticky, pinching, a constant itch.
I know where she lies. And I may have forgiven,
but I am not a fool. Until
the snakes can’t resist.
They know, but they are hungry

*authors note: this was initially written for english class. it was supposed to be a poem about forgiveness but I hate english teachers