"Oh, brother darling.
Oh, brother dearest.
The two of you were children once.
You used to tell her that the sun
lived in her hair, that she
was every morning you woke up happy.
When you grew your fangs,
the first thing you did was suck the marrow
from that golden sun, then she followed you to the river
and watched you bury your baby teeth
while everything burned like an ending.
If you still love her, it is not in a way
that she understands.
There is blood on the walls of your
home and she is still the little girl
who would help you put it there.
There is blood in your mouth and it is
but everything tastes the same
when she is looking at you like that, anyway.
She has always been yours
because she never got the
chance to be anything else,
so you hold her close like a blade
to the chest, and hope that she knows why.
If you hadn’t eaten your heart,
it would have broken at the sight
of her, all golden and shining,
with eyes so alive that you
wished you could crawl inside of them.
You are not forgiven.
You are always forgiven.
You never tell her that the sun
is still in her hair.
She forgets your hands and
how to hold them, so you don’t
Instead, you stick a dagger in her chest
and call it love.
Instead, you stick a dagger in her chest,
and she believes you."