The Joy Vampire

empty hearted herself she cozied up to me offering the magic of imagination of stories in the moonlight of dancing early in the morning around the misty lake it didn’t pay to argue for logic was always on her side she was always right i was always wrong except sometimes she would shock me when the worm threatened to turn- she would acquiesce gifting me with a rare compliment i did know what i was talking about i could sew a straight seam i could create until i expected it then she would turn, herself and accuse me of perversion in my imagination in my poems and stories when i wrote about the simple beauty of a young girl and a small boy talking to a magic tree - i must be a ‘closet something’ and why did i write about child molesters? i had to stop sending her my thoughts my dreams my wishes she was talented at opening me up making me ripe for the killer sting which i prayed would not come this time in that, she was always right and i was always wrong to hope she would ever change