pretty girls have sharp collarbones
& knives for knees & watch as
blood blooms from under the line
of their brastrap. exquisite, they bleed,
tiny droplets of holy water: curse
the vampire that’s eating me from
within but i can’t live without her.
i’ll tell myself i am ethereal,
stranger to the carnal. pull
over, i hear, over music
playing even after the car crashes.
it’s summer again,
but i fall no victim to Chick-fil-A &
double whopper burgers,
red & ribs each time.
i suck the honeydew juice
from my fingers like a nursing child—
i am ethereal, i remind myself. i am
sun-goddess hidden in the swells
of my dressing gown, the shadows
under budding breasts, sunlight leaking
through her thighs. sun goddesses have
fruit-tasting breath & hollow holes
under their eyes. sun goddesses drink
from the moon, not the cup her
mother placed outside her door &
begged her to open, open wide.
tell me: how does the darkness covet?
no, meet me by the willow tree on
the next full moon & we can howl
together, fingers digging into soft
dirt & negative space
i held out my skinny elbows,
my armory of bones & placed
them where i knew you’d find
them: you always do. remember this:
the dead do not forgive. & neither
do the half-alive, the ones scared
of both now & the afterlife, the
ones who don’t tell you their
craving lies elsewhere.
open wide, i said. i didn’t like how
you looked at me. i looked at you t
hat way, once. like only you could
fill the hollows in me made not by
old age, nor osteoporosis, the kind
of shadows blooming from torn
kiss me, find me floating on the
12:01 AM, digital clock numerals
fogged into my brain on fire,
running like a madwoman in the
Vestibule of Hell as
the numbers chase me:  
   
tell me: is it comforting to know
Rue Huang is a writer from the Mid-Atlantic. Her work has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Alliance, Paper Crane Journal, Aster Lit, Words & Whispers, The Blue Marble Review, and TribLive, among others. She currently contributes as photography editor & opinion writer for her school newspaper. When she’s not consuming her body weight in blueberries, you can find her debating something philosophical with friends, or running with her track team! Her Instagram is @ewwitshallie.
The Ekphrastic Review
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