Tortured Innocence (Or so they thought)

I made a deal with the devil
giving him my soul
solely for a chance at retribution.
He gave it to me so willingly
promising he would see me when I arrived home.
I haunt desolate moors
busy side streets
rooms dusty with misuse
those burnished bright beneath a layer of wax
awaiting the dance to begin.
I am the hidden desire
bleak truth that you harbor
nightmares I bring
to make you shudder
to make you fear
to make you look over your shoulder
wondering
if I am near.
Croon softly in your ear
melody of death
played when you carved your initials
into my flesh.
I ran away in my head
away from the pain
the tears
the fears roiling within.
Your mutilated love
which you professed it to be
made me into this succubus
that you do so see.
You and the Devil
naive you thought I be
only to discover
I am far worse than both of you
together
two to my one.

©Oct. 29/19
Picture via Pinterest

Anxiety

How do I explain?
How do I make you understand
what it means
when anxiety’s talons grip my soul
my heart
turning my mind against me.
Everything I know to be true
suddenly become lies
gnawing at me
eroding my self-confidence
for anxiety has a way
a way of making
taking
breaking
so I have no control.
All I need is the small stroking
of my mind.
There is a voice.
Insidious.
You will never understand
for it is my voice
repeating
whispering
snide remarks
that no one cares for me.
I need to be comforted
held
confirmed
to assuage the blackness within.
Anxiety.
Unless you have felt it
unless it has wrapped cold arms
wicked legs
winded its black way
through your body mass
until no longer do you know
which voice is true.
Anxiety.
Colors my world black
bony fingers snatching my soul
as I try so hard
not to let anyone see.
Sept. 30/18
Photo by Sydney Sims on Unsplash