[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

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Posted by

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

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