Pinbox

Hunched over the machine,
Sewing a costume.

I am the Morticia to your Gomez.
Only, you’ve never yearned for me.

It’s an inside joke with myself;
You haven’t seen the movie.

We watched the show and still,
You missed my plea.

How sad…
In the shuffle of my banishment,

My box of pins on the edge of my too-small-for-sewing desk,
Was knocked, frantically,

Onto the floor.
It was too loud to hear the pins drop.

Only in the deafening quiet of the aftermath,
Did I notice when one stray rolled off the desk,

Releasing a noise that sent
Agony

Screaming
Through

My
Chest.