I built her from the splinters,
of all the broken things inside me—
brittle, shaped in silence,
born in the space
between the scream and the swallow.

She was never meant to live,
only to protect.

Her voice was a lullaby of blades,
her eyes turning from anything soft.
but over time,
I buried her beneath layers
of laughter and light,
learning how to love gently,
without flinching.

Still—
I never forgot the sound
of her pacing beneath the floorboards.

Even now, I hear it—
a pressure rising,
a crack beginning to form.

I feel her iron teeth
pressed behind my smile.
I see her in the mirror,
just behind my eyes—
watching,
waiting,
wanting.

She is all the worst parts of me,
and yet I can’t help but wonder
if she ever felt lonely, too