A Quiet Kill

Your absence was the silence

of a dead rabbit

on the road.

In the middle of the night

velvet blood crochets through the cracks in the pavement

as those unwanted memories you force fed me.

You are the broken bones

and gauged eyes,

but I

am the road,

the road you fleeted across

to reach your grassly home.

The bridge for you

and nothing more.

So I left tire marks on your once smooth fur

to remind you

who is now using who.

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