05
STOCKHOLM SYNDROME
LISA ZULKIFLI
The bad boy sends an envoy
Down for what I was to keep under lock and key
Thighs embrace and his hips bump into mine
His hands slips us into the underground
(sorry, not sorry; he was hot like hellfire)
Eyes like obsidian pin the bitches down
The terrain is smokey ash beneath my feet
Like the floor of his bottomless black-holed heart
(I saw him true; I did not care)
King of pins, man of power
I had someone to take care of me
Mother knows best but daughter needs to know herself
(on pomegranate I feasted; my fruit of knowledge)
I had my cake and gobbled it up
My teeth masticate, sticky seed and slime swallowed
They will bear fruit next spring
We hibernate, mate through winter
(screams echo in hell; we are engulfed in flames)
His dogfur cloak warms my blood
I lay broken upon his cold, empty lair