I’m behind the door

but don’t look

act as if you don’t see me

a game you’ll allow because of the pigtails and ribbons

I poke my head ’round

curving towards you with wide eyes

and teeth clenched so tightly together

You catch the grinding of slick enamel

and cringe

The hinges reflect the light that pours itself into old windows

and rubs your eye like a child’s grubby hand

Blurring the lines on my face

muting concave rage and convexed terrors

You walk past me and into the kitchen for tea

with my Enemy

I ate your cookie