The boy,
scared shitless his girl’s gonna leave,
takes to filling a needle at night and
stabbing her in the thigh
with whatever they have in the fridge:
margarine,
mayonnaise,
things all gooey and
sweet like her .
She’s just so fine,
you get her fat,
ain’t nobody gonna want her.
A year later tho
she dies of an eggshell heart
and then nobody has her.
Nobody says goodbye neither.
The address ain’t right in the email.
The boy goes alone.
He holds her hand,
and damn if she don’t smell good!
Just one bite, that’s all he wants.
He swears!
But they don’t listen.
Now he’s in the clink,
and she’s seasoning all his
bland-ass prison food.
Damn she was good, he says,
smackin’ his lips,
pushin’ her into that
porcelain ring.