Monstrilio

by Gerardo Sámano Córdova

This chunk is hers. She takes the chunk of lung and places it in a clear jam jar

i thought she was gonna eat it tbh.

We didn’t so much exist as much as we haunted, and with no one else to haunt, we haunted each other.

but I was too occupied doing what I liked doing best: directing the way our three lives unfolded, tethered to one another, full.

I felt alone, perfectly alone. So alone I felt divine. Divine like a lonely god unfathomable to anybody but herself.

In another life, she would have been my wife. In this life, I should have pushed her hand away, saved her from me. I let her touch linger.

There was a time I fantasized about someone proposing to me, their eyes deep in love, someone who wanted to announce to the world that we were each other’s.

There was solace in keeping his memory unchanged. He was a place to visit, like a book reread.

Night is when we’re hungriest. And hunger can be magnificent.