The Violence in Me

I happened to see him
as I walked to class.
A figure of smoke,
undulating with darkness,
he stood against a door,
looking in.
My eyes dug like nails
into his hands,
overturning the thoughts
and vials of blood
suspended from my wrists.
There was something I needed to say,
a word to grind out like meat,
but when I opened my mouth,
my teeth fell out,
tinkling to the floor
like pins.

Valentina Cano

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