Belladonna Field

Good night, old friend. Hush and sleep. I’m here as long as we can pretend. Even after you leave. If pain is a gateway to the soul, then my dreams deem your words the key to such a portal I just can’t tear my eyes away your blunt nails puncturing skin, their purpose ugly lines If I could I would rasp a scripted farewell envelop the spirits you trapped here frame to frame but the jeers swimming in your Cheshire smile bleed a crimson too real maybe I should rejoice, this house now a home – not a belladonna field. But it never will be unlike a cage twenty years, two decades, one fear, no apology a few tears won’t erase the scars on her arms you the forefront, I the ignorant, and she the child in Omelas I’m terrified I’m grieving a vile sadist the people surrounding me either love or hate, curse or forgive, they don’t understand what it’s like to miss someone so soul-crushingly cruel.