You came in a box, wrapped tightly with laughs and giggles, and sat on my doorstep.
“Long time no see,” I gleamed, picking you up by your base.
I was careful so as not to upset you, and placed you gently on the couch.
I couldn’t control myself; I peered through your breathing hole to see if you had changed. You moved about, slowly at first and then into a furious fit, as you peered back an icy stare.
Hair matted with blood, eyes lit up with some form of longing, teeth snarling, smiling peacefully.
How I loved you, and how you were mine again.

I offered you a glass of confinement to take your mind off of things, and you took it, melting ever so comfortably into the sofa.
The living room had a new coat of paint, and the furniture had long been replaced. The house still had the familiar scent of fried eggs, which you were never able to get out after mornings of making the meal.
“So where did you go?” I asked, placing my hand on your box.


You were cold again, and your blood began to chill. I ran to get you a blanket, but you started to expand, blood cells pressing with such intensity, oh that intensity, against your veins. I was too late, and you tore.

You left in an explosion, bursting with tape and chains.