“I come from fear I feed you dread, I break the bread of shivers among your poor. I hear boards creaking scratched by some perverse animal. I step into the dark I sit in the midst of its dense back. Sitting there I ask to hear your cruelest of stories. I welcome terror, that somber bull, I fight for your name held in his jaws. I taste the fruit whose coarse skin is eaten by beasts who’ve never tasted honey. There’s no more bitter food than the fruit of love traversed by doubt.” LovePoetryFearDoubtPoemTerrorDread Author:Andrea Cote