By Linda Crate
grew tired of waiting for you, stood by the river of styx for too long; i don’t care if you’re revived any longer—clearly we were not meant to be, you enjoy curses and darkness more than any moonlight or dream i could give you; so keep company with the ghosts and all your haunted houses—i am meant to be in the wilds, knowing both darkness and light, both dreams and nightmares; i prefer every petal of light that falls upon my skin no matter how minute because sometimes there is no end to darkness and i had a dream that you were walking through hell unbothered and so i guess you must prefer to be engulfed by your lusts and your desires—you wear a mask of a holy man, but we both know you aren’t a man of God; you are just a fallen angel whose wings no longer fly—your black feathers burned me once when they touched my face, i wonder does she know that you cannot be loyal to anyone; even yourself? or was she ensnared by your charm, did you tell her that prince charming wasn’t always true the way you told me after you shattered my heart? you said she completes you, but i never needed a man to do that; i was complete on my own—goddess, warrior, dreamer of dreams; full of magic, power, and light i was someone you couldn’t tame—that’s probably why you left me abadoned in your song of lust hoping it would kill me, and you were successful at killing the part of me that loved you; now when we meet you will know only my darkest song and i will be the queen of your nightmares killing you so you can marry your true bride: death.
Copyright© 2020 by linda m. crate