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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