LOGAN STREET
By David Schütz II
Had I never followed you home, we wouldn’t be together in the dimness of your cell, the quiet place where you closely governed my evolution; integrating every change, initiating every cut as the nights stretched on like a desert road. Seasons grew cold as light became ever fleeting. You dined as I cursed the deity that gave me to the beast, pieces of me taken every day, flesh satiating your hunger; a feast which has ceased only now that a shard of bone has ensnared your eager throat. Alas, I could save you, if only you hadn’t taken my hands.
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