Morgan Sullivan
Monsters live in my head.
Some monsters have smooth reptile skin
shades of emerald jewels
and then there is one
that looks identical to you.
It has your burnt cigarette voice
that whispers when I sleep.
It has a malicious smile
with a silver lying tongue
and the same callused hands
stained with decades worth of shame
and sinister acts that the devil himself
would never condone.
Oxycodone
takes the pain away.
It limits the aches all over my body
but can never stifle your voice
that has a permanent residence in my head.
Another monster emerges.
This one looked and
acted like me
but she wasn’t me.
She was better.
Because you never touched her
and you can’t hurt her
like how you did me.