Desklamp
Rose used to leave the light on when she went to bed
Not the big overhead light, but the small whispering shine of her desk lamp
Whenever I’d sleep in her room, the cradle of her shadow on the wall would shiver as she held me closer to her
We spoke in whispers or not at all, but those shadows on the wall echoed everything that stuck to the bottom of our throats
I watched them slightly shift and then cling back to their places in planetary patterns when she held me as close as she could like how the sun can’t bare to be away from the earth for too long
And I scrutinized their movements when I’d lay on her long golden hair and she’d push me over to fight the pain alone
Rose pulled me into the time warp of childhood fears - of monsters and goons
Of my own shadow
That dark menace that rides steadily along my skin with every movement I make and doesn't let go until the sky caves in to it’s melancholy treasures
I wasn't her lover then but the ghost that lined her body
If the light of the desk lamp hit me just right I could be her plastic sex doll wanting to glitter over every orifice and touch tenderly
Or I could be her own personal monster
In a sepia daze the dark dancers on the wall faded
Shone away by a light angled at the monsters
Sometimes I catch myself leaving my desk lamp on
That warm nostalgic shadow
it’s grace around my arms
But my eyes no longer greet any dark menace or dancers
Or the long golden hair of a flower that harbors a thorn
Venus Davis is a 20-year-old nonbinary writer from Cleveland, Ohio. They are currently a poetry reader for Random Sample Review. Venus is also working on writing a poetry chapbook inspired by astrology. Follow their twitter for more memes, rants, and the occasional poem: @venusbeanus.
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