Love Is Indeed An Exorcism

Isn’t it strange,

that in the centre of heartbreak,

my soul spoke your name.

Every part of me knows your name.

Anxious brain,

lovestruck eyes,

hidden heart,

that whispers

“Him? Again?”

I don’t reply,

just staring at your reply,

restrained but so clearly full of wishes,

things you’d do,

if you could trust yourself,

not to break me,

more than I have already been broken,

at your hand,

and the hands of others.

I was another lamb,

in a long line of seduced and slaughtered sweethearts,

because that’s just what you,

and many others do.

As I sat,

aimless,

in your abattoir,

our brown eyes,

bridging a gap,

that words cannot cross,

I wonder if you’ll take a knife to my neck,

or if you’ll cry into it.

You lost everything,

because you fell in love with lust,

and each way it possessed each one of your princesses,

but loss taught you a lesson,

so I wonder,

if my soul called out to you,

because she knew,

you were ready.

The question is,

am I?