You are my favorite poison, the little voice says. You are late. I am late. Should I tell you?
I wonder who she is. You will lie and steal from me. I’m shivering, but it isn’t cold.
The voice tells me about her. I know who she is. Your baby will be beautiful. Popular, funny, and brilliant. Not like me. I’ve seen her in the future. She’s perfect.
I sit, waiting for love. You cheat. Rocking back and forth, the voice says I deserve this. Poison. Love. When I close my eyes, my voices twirl, a bride and her groom.
Photo is copyright by Zoe.