Monster
I live in your cupboard, hidden among your clothes. I sleep during daytime, one of my heads leaning onto your old slippers, my body hanging from a plastic hanger. At night I wake up and spy you from the inside, through the crack of the door your mother leaves open. I know you know I live here, I know you’ve told your parents a lot of times.
I hate you just for that.
For you discovered me.
I’d like to go out and tear you to pieces with my teeth, to make you pay what you owe me for your betrayal.
But I won’t do it. I hide among your clothes and wait, as I always did, suffering my fear in silence.
Because I’m not lurking; I’m skulking.
I’m skulking from the monster that lives under your bed.