The Beast

It was under my bed, under my sheets,

I could feel the monster staring at me.

Its cold fingers reached into my husk,

I screamed in my head, but my mouth ceased.

—

It slithered and grabbed me, hands slick with grease,

admiring the meal he had prepared to beast.

A faceless thief, a thief of breath,

a shadow that moved without release.

—

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The darkness pressed, a weight I could not flee,

every motion twisted, grappling me.

My body trembled, my mind a locked room,

The terror in my chest would never ease.

—

But the big bad beast I had seen under my sheets

wasn’t the monster who upon me has feast

it was the wave of sickening shame

that stained my body when he touched me.

6/10/25

Catalina Gimeno