[Fiction] My Demon

My demon has sickly hair of white,

like a beast, she cries out to stop


My demon has dry skin sewn

against the creases of her muscle,

peeling, but soft to the touch


My demon carries the eyes of dead wolves,

one in each hand, bleeding,

she tells me what they’ve seen


My demon wears no shawl,

her breasts peek out from behind long locks,

her legs round


My demon follows near behind as I sleep,

but vanishes when I wake


My demon lingers in the shadows,

in caves, behind hills,

in depths that I cannot see


My demon comes out

when I am vulnerable


My demon only hunts

when I am weak


My demon snarls at my hands,

she bites down on my feet

gripping hard with fangs wide, sharp


My demon eats at my flesh,

wrings the blood from my veins,

it pools down into the dirt


My demon holds my bones in her hands,

she presses the long stones to her face,

they crumble, shatter


My demon leaves me in shambles,

a ruin of failed ambition and dream

she only returns if I can hold myself straight


My demon will wait until I am well,

until she can strike, thread apart any

sanity that remains, repeat


My demon dangles from my arms,

like a child playing a cruel game


My demon pulls me down, slowly,

under her weight, until I can not stand,

until I fall, again, and again


My demon whispers sweet nothings

into my ear, sings lies


My demon will kill me, she assures

a poltergeist


Posted by

Indigo is a writer living out of Seattle. She plays a lot of video games.

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