His name was Matthew.
It's ok.
I destroyed him too thoroughly to be haunted by his name.
Besides,
It is good to honor the dead.
Especially when it is you who made them so.
We honor the dead,
The lost,
The fallen.
We honor you who died because I could not suffer you to be.
Squashed,
Like a spider on the windowsill.
No thought spared for the little, and total, destruction of a life.
More than that,
You died so that I could be.
You died by my hand, for my life, and you did not fight back.
You surrendered it all to me,
And I took your sacrifice
So.
Let us know the dead by name.
Lost, but not forgotten.
The honored fallen.
His name was Matthew
By Madeline Trice
Biography:
Madeline Trice is a writer and creative based in Brooklyn, NY. Currently working for Quail Bell Magazine, she writes fiction, poetry, and creative non-fiction; she's performed in numerous stage productions in college and community theatres; and she dabbles in photography, printmaking, and collage. Madeline has a passion for storytelling and human expression of all kinds and her work often interrogates themes of generational trauma and systemic structures of abuse.
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