by Morgan Caudill
so maybe i carried your
heart around in my mouth
like a dead bird. and
wasn’t careful about where
i put my teeth. and
maybe you mistook the
puncture marks for battle wounds.
i swear i tried to be tender.
i swear i was belly-up for you.
i only ever tightened my jaw
to keep you close.
i only say the things
i’ll regret the most.
can the moon change a man
if i sing to her enough?
i wanted it to be you,
but not like this.
you were born a hunter,
and i was made to be the wild,
so just know that when you
aim the silver bullet
for the heart,
i won’t run –
i’ll howl.
Pegasus 