The Devil Do Us Part
The vines press closely to your face,
Water dripping down hanging leaves
As they sag against the threads that hold them in place,
And against your skin leaving a sudden tease.
Wretched vines, weeping into the ears that allude them.
Ugh, if only the stinging against the skin would break the fall,
But I am Sin.
And sin is perhaps, of them overall, the most frail.
My eyes so pale the moon beseeches me,
Scarring tissue reminds me of my dreams of you,
Breathing in the holy water and setting yourself (from me) free.
You’re not true.
What a lie.
What lies you’ve told yourself, I weep.
Upon my crooked breathe, a sigh
So deep it pulls in the ocean of misery.
So wait, we are not done yet.
Ohno. For I am frail, but ever clever.
The banners are beaten, the flags are flying,
And my marks are set
Upon your features forever.
Upon your wet, crooked lips.
Upon your cruel, dark eyes.
Do you feel my hot, welcoming breathe against the back of your brain—nip, nip
Teeth against your lies.
The stench of soiled blood circles the confines of your mind,
Lapping against the hungry dream pool.
And does this raincloud stand at your side?
The world coughs and the clouds release their jaws, dropping drool.
I’m afraid it’s all over for you,
For I’ll be back another time,
And there is nothing you can do
Nor no where you can hide.
-Dindella Amagu