My first love was a child of scorpions—

Stuck his stinger in my heart

And poisoned me into submission.

I got on my hands and knees

And begged him not to leave.

But when the first frost crystallized us in our farewell embrace,

I took a mental picture

And stored it in my memory’s vault.

They keep me warm at night

When I become hyper-aware of how empty my bed is.

I pretend that October is a blanket

That envelopes me like my mother’s womb.

Keeping me safe and warm

As the loneliness grows a backbone

And confronts me for living in the past.