The Anglerfish Lures a Mate

Indelibly ashamed.
The secret pulsing through my back pocket.
An invisible beacon of infamy on my ass.
"It's not like the world will end if they find out,"
my friend Nancy promised with an earnest smile
after I showed her the extra cleft between my butt cheeks.
Tiny at first, no thicker than a fingernail, until it got hotter.

"Don't touch it!" I cried as the gap widened,
widened, sucking Nancy inside.

Of course, I lied when her parents called.
"Nancy said she was going to the library."
What would've been the use of telling the truth?
People would've assumed I was crazy
if I insisted that there was a girl hiding inside my derriere.

Derriere. Grandma said that nice girls don't say ass.
She was beautiful. Not Grandma, Nancy.
There's no use asking her to come out.

Sometimes I wonder if I loved Nancy too much.
Not a girlish crush between two nine-year-olds.
I never told Nancy how I felt. Never tried to kiss her,
but I used to fantasize we'd get married when we grew up.

My family wonders why I don't date.
I feel like an anglerfish who devoured her mate.
I stopped hearing Nancy's heartbeat when I was twelve.