We are the haunted.
We dangle from the ceiling like the necklaces
that dangled on our necks, until they were ripped off,
replaced by rubies of blood.
We are hanging on spikes,
heads bowed in an eternal prayer.
Our screams have long since melted.
He loved the blood, not us;
he lapped it up.
The blood ran down our legs–
pooled in the center of the dungeon.
The wedding night turned into a prophecy.
We are here
waiting for you to join us.
We know how you’ll cry and scream and beg,
because we did, too.
But you are not alone.
We are your sisters,
here to surround you in silence
through all eternity.
Our hands are outstretched,
calling you home.
Taryn Miller is a middle school language arts teacher and long-time poet in Colorado Springs. Her work has been published in Germ Magazine, USRepresented, and Eskimo Pie, among others.