Gregory Richard Barden | + Follow Poet |
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soucouyant

you …

found your way in -
a keyhole that I had left unguarded
squeezing through
with fiery wings folded like leaves
I should’ve seen it coming
but your “goodbye” had been such
a jagged edge
and seemed so … determinate
I knew what you were
you never feigned another identity
and that’s why I was so attracted …
so compelled
your honesty was like a potion
and I drank it willingly
but I was never your aliment
you fed … elsewhere …
I didn’t question your nighttime disappearances -
I understood your needs
and I never tried to control you
there was no judgement
no accusations or condemnation
I accepted it utterly
and my reward was your passion -
a physical and emotional eros
beyond the human norm
and an addiction that exceeded any chemical …
but, when you knew you had me,
it all changed …
your efforts to please turned to impatience
for your pleasure was in the hunt alone -
once captured, prey became debris
and when you spurned me I
craved you all the more,
as you knew I would …
but you never counted on my pride
as ingrained as veins in marble
genetic and lasting
and tho beyond your comprehension
I let you go …
oh, it was torturous, indeed
but I never let on -
(and probably sealed my fate)
I dusted off my spats and walked …
and I swear, by moonlite,
there was a tear that dripped from
those brutal absinthe peepers …
oh …
that was all so long ago
and despite the countless reminders that
I’d learned to leave myself -
despite the motivation created by
the knowledge of your iniquity,
(and your battered ego)
I let down my guard -
I grew careless
and left a hole in my defenses
thus you crept thru my keyhole like
an evil sprite
with nothing but retribution in
your selfish designs -
Bazil waiting impatiently just outside
for my red, runny ruin …

I never felt your toothy touch
I slept that night as deeply as I ever had
(perhaps that was your sorcery)
and awoke to a brilliant day
but as soon as I moved I felt the bruises …
and in the mirror I found your calling card -
black and blue and shaped delicately on
my nape, as if you’d painted it -
the form of a crescent moon, etched by canines
in the violation of my blood,
and a message, explicit
that no matter what I now did -
no matter what measures I took in the
future to hide from you,
I was forever yours
I was another of your sad, sorry horde
and the one thing that you knew I detested
more than any other …
I was, from then until my last breath …

your food.

Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2024

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