a tear in the sky

she looks at her reflection and finds a pair of purple eyes sprouting from her shoulders. they look back at her demanding answers and attention. she imagines how she was pinned so effortlessly to the mattress: a butterfly on a mount with its thorax pierced. she thinks of her own thorax being pierced, divided into shards through sharp implements she can only feel, not see. her skin feels hot and demanding, and through her own senseless craving she opens her chest wall. unfolding her circulatory system, she waits, trembling with each pulse, red to purple to blue and back again. two bodies loom over her, watching and waiting to split the spoils that remain. they call her names: a senseless little slut, needy, unworthy of attention. she stares back, and hears her name. she feels bracketed by one's arms as the other rends her flesh for sport. she can no longer see anything but a purple tear in the sky, trembling with her own pulse. she can no longer hear anything but her own name and her own respiration. they see her kicking, gasping, flopping like a fish fighting for its last breath. she feels still, at peace, adrift on a punt, staring at the tear in the sky. she eats cherries whole and dreams of a warm breeze in her hair. they continue feasting on her, tasting the warmth of bitter almond and sweet summer air. they begin to see what she sees: two, then three tears in the sky, ripening and intersecting into a larger whole.

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