Oct 2, 2015
Surely, the demons I face
While my eyes are wired shut
Cannot grasp the taste
But can only smell the blood.
I know they’re laughing at me
Some are pulling me forward
Wanting me to come and see
What lies behind closed doors.
My hand pulsating profusely
I place down a sweaty palm
Jiggling the handle frantically
Locked, so terrified I call.
I know what’s behind remains unseen
Yet I feel the unwanted information
Flood my mind, with my weight, I lean
Hearing her voice is a confirmation.
So, when her skin becomes laced
With a terrible, burning desire
I black out, pushing forward in haste
To smoother that terrible, burning fire.
Now they’re laughing at me
Some are leaning forward with worry
While the others disappear into walls
When she glances up, most of them scurry.
Before I know what my body is doing
I drop to the cold, linoleum tile floor
My whole entity weak and shaking
I reach behind to shut the door.
A flurry of red and black and brown
Swarm around me like a barbed prison
Trapping my deepest, most unwanted thoughts
To one, pleasingly painful color; crimson.
The need to feel anything but this
This hate or betrayal, the anger manifests
“Why’d you do this” spits out of my mouth
“It was an accident” and the razors put at rest.
Her eyes so pure, not a cloud in those skies
Seem to peer through the closed bars of her cell
They can see straight up into heavens
But are stuck burning down in hell.
Her body trembles as I clean her wounds
She doesn’t want me to see her like this
But it's all been done before, it's familiarity
Of the sharp-edged razor's kiss.
Copyright © Briauna Brown | Year Posted 2019
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