by Andrea Torres
Six years
Nine months
Eight days ago
In Mexico I left
My black cat
Half buried in the front yard
Its hard body exposed to the hungry dogs
Its ghost to hunt a heartless girl
I left my heart inside the walls
Deep beneath the cracked paint
Deep inside the cold cement
My grandma’s house
I left a quiet home
Non-sense photographs of my dream-like existence
Vague echoes of my giggling voice floating thick in the air
I left the most beautiful beings; my grandparents
Tender eyes
Caring eyes
Crying eyes
Infected wounds bleeding love
Bleeding
Bleeding