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Decay of a Devil's Love
September 29, 2017
'You'll love it', they said.
The ghosts of those untroubled,
Like wine and like bread,
My hand grabs a shovel.
Til death do us part,
It's messenger in me,
I pull him apart,
Letting a black soul free,
As Hate sets the table,
And Malice sits at head,
I look at his face;
All life having fled.
A laugh escapes me
And runs for its god.
My black eyes can see,
But my black heart cannot.
© Jennifer W., Superior, CO
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