We both know that Eden is bliss. Eden is for the sheltered perfect, the wanting for nothing, the ideal, the safe, the precious. Eden is for the ignorant, but we were both wise long before the apple tree even took root. You were born so far above me and I stared up at the moon until you fell right down to the Earth, the cruel below where I lived, slithering along the dirt. Your little starry eyes were pitiful sparks when I found you. I picked you up and patched your bones. You strengthened your tiny fingers and grew your sharp spine. You soon towered above me and yet still, I, cast out of God’s light, found myself betraying you. It was easy to hurt you, despite it all. You, in His image. You, capitalized in your own godliness (godlessness). You, made of love and pain. You, master, with Your claws dug into the scruff of my neck— You. You. You. It’s all for You. I have never been myself; I have always been For You. I, Lucifer-Saboteur, was born to meet you. I am up to no good when it comes to You, and I will no longer hesitate to attack. Not for God, not for Eden, not for Love— for You, and only You, I will attack. I am a quiet reckoning. Eden grew so I could burn it down for You. I will crash through the barrier and carry you into Heaven.
Now, place Your hand on my head, and tell me: Attack.
ESTOCADA
My love is so big and so bright. My love is terrifying. Violent and unrelenting, dangerous, barbed, poison-tipped. But you. You with your jade eyes and your marble-hard patience, you with jaded years— you’ve never folded under it. Silence, you’ve given in droves. Frustration, you frustrate me to the ends of the Earth. I have pushed you to every cliff’s edge and I have yet to make you buckle, and that is why you’re stuck with me. I am the roses and the brambles from the garden, softly settled in your hair and pin-pricking holes into your pressed garments. I have burrowed into your skin and wriggled into your rib cage, just like you’ve wedged yourself in mine. I’m aiming between your shoulder blades. My veins are twisted up with yours. You’ve leaked into every scar I have; the love you’ve imprinted onto me is quiet, intrinsic. You’ve preserved my petals, preened my thorns. You’ve scorched my Earth, burned down my walls of ivy and broken all of my ribs. Forked tongue and fangs, howling at a frequency only I can hear— oh, you’re such a tempter.
I’m wringing your neck with this diamond band. I’m wrapping this leash around your pulmonary artery. You’ll never be free of me. You’ll see me, you’ll breathe me, until my love finally kills you. I will have the last laugh, the softest sigh, when I lay beside you in our casket.
prose poem diptych <3
We both know that Eden is bliss. Eden is for the sheltered perfect, the wanting for nothing, the ideal, the safe, the precious. Eden is for the ignorant, but we were both wise long before the apple tree even took root. You were born so far above me and I stared up at the moon until you fell right down to the Earth, the cruel below where I lived, slithering along the dirt. Your little starry eyes were pitiful sparks when I found you. I picked you up and patched your bones. You strengthened your tiny fingers and grew your sharp spine. You soon towered above me and yet still, I, cast out of God’s light, found myself betraying you. It was easy to hurt you, despite it all. You, in His image. You, capitalized in your own godliness (godlessness). You, made of love and pain. You, master, with Your claws dug into the scruff of my neck— You. You. You. It’s all for You. I have never been myself; I have always been For You. I, Lucifer-Saboteur, was born to meet you. I am up to no good when it comes to You, and I will no longer hesitate to attack. Not for God, not for Eden, not for Love— for You, and only You, I will attack. I am a quiet reckoning. Eden grew so I could burn it down for You. I will crash through the barrier and carry you into Heaven.
Now, place Your hand on my head, and tell me: Attack.
ESTOCADA
My love is so big and so bright. My love is terrifying. Violent and unrelenting, dangerous, barbed, poison-tipped. But you. You with your jade eyes and your marble-hard patience, you with jaded years— you’ve never folded under it. Silence, you’ve given in droves. Frustration, you frustrate me to the ends of the Earth. I have pushed you to every cliff’s edge and I have yet to make you buckle, and that is why you’re stuck with me. I am the roses and the brambles from the garden, softly settled in your hair and pin-pricking holes into your pressed garments. I have burrowed into your skin and wriggled into your rib cage, just like you’ve wedged yourself in mine. I’m aiming between your shoulder blades. My veins are twisted up with yours. You’ve leaked into every scar I have; the love you’ve imprinted onto me is quiet, intrinsic. You’ve preserved my petals, preened my thorns. You’ve scorched my Earth, burned down my walls of ivy and broken all of my ribs. Forked tongue and fangs, howling at a frequency only I can hear— oh, you’re such a tempter.
I’m wringing your neck with this diamond band. I’m wrapping this leash around your pulmonary artery. You’ll never be free of me. You’ll see me, you’ll breathe me, until my love finally kills you. I will have the last laugh, the softest sigh, when I lay beside you in our casket.