[Image from Pinterest]
[Inspired by Sleep Dealer’s “The Way Home”:]
It crept up on him, claws climbing
his skin to risen hairs as regret took hold.
What had he done?
Never would he forget her eyes – hers,
not this other one. The one he’d…
Hands gripped head in horror, disbelief
at the unbidden mania guiding
Could what was done be undone?
Turned his palms to face him: lines of future;
chastised by his own skin.
He’d been written
for a different path, and sneered at that fate.
Fingers stroked his neck, arms
wrapped themselves round him
from behind, squeezing; binding.
The voice that found his ear made him die inside.
This was all wrong, a mistake.
He turned to her, this creature, a siren
intent on blinding him to truth.
He shuddered with loathing;
she smiled, confusing it as passion.
“Come back to bed.”
He stood, watched as she slid to the floor,
taloned fingers encircling his feet.
Her eyes – cold slate, endless pools
of hate (he could see that now) – implored him,
perfectly poised as victim on the ground.
“Release me,” he whispered. She shook
her head, mouth pulled tight in anger.
He crouched and pulled her fingers off him instead.
“Don’t you dare,” the creature growled,
an animal on all fours, focus on the door.
No possession material delayed him:
that exit called to him, light beyond a choir from above.
Time to find the woman he loved.
[Copyright © N R Nolan 2016]