Devilish

I swear that I can
see the dark move,
crawling over and under
and into itself, scraggly,
chipped, boiled fingernails
clawing at the filmy
blended night and
scratching it wide open
in places to let the
occasional sliver of light
in, then folding back over the
mistake.
*
The girl with red and pink
and blue and orange hair
springing off of her head
like fireworks tugged her
second skin around her, while
the wind lifted her wild
locks, and hurried through
the night, keeping an eye
out for drunken men with
grabby eyes, not at all
aware that the real
danger was the dark fabric
covering her town, the
shadows that slowly slithered
around her legs, picked at
her colors, caressed her curves
and yanked her under,
determined to make her
pure heart and slightly
less pure body theirs
and she sank into the
swirling depths of a
devilish yet strangely
comforting world, her
mouth cracked open in a
long gone scream for
no one to hear.
*
It is a world of demonic
angels and angelic demons,
a world where reality
is but a myth told to soothe
crying children and
mermaids have teeth that tickle
at first. Everyone wears the
nighttime like a mist upon their
bare skin as they fling
themselves into a dance that
would remind one of
fireflies, balls of light,
orbs of brightness gleaming
in the liquidy black.
*
I met the girl with
fireworks for hair on
my journey through her
neon-tinted world, my
trusty umbrella swinging
at my side. She was
dancing naked in the fog
and I swear her skin
was made of melted moonbeams.
The colors slid off her head
and struggled to catch
up as she twirled towards
me and lightly touched my
cheek, the stroke like a
butterfly’s wing, like satin
on my skin. “You’re mortal,
aren’t you? Stay. Dance
awhile.” I asked her name.
“Annabel Lee,” she cooed.
I asked her story, and
she told me of being
swallowed by the darkness,
of realizing this dream
was much sweeter than
life in normality. Here,
she could stay young
and beautiful forever. Here,
she could dance as
long as she liked and
never expire. Here, in the
belly of the beast, everything
was soft and inviting.
“You could stay here too,
be like me. Just let go.
Let go.” Every word was
a symphony to me and
I was tempted. She flipped
away, laughing, her siren song
urging me to follow. I could
feel the dark around me,
like being in my love’s
arms, and that’s when
I realized I had to get
out of the land of twisted
beauty, laced with poison,
edged with thorns.
*
At night, I see the dark
move and it makes me
moan with longing for
something I know I
almost had and my heart
aches for Annabel Lee and
her firework hair and then
a different set of arms
are holding me and
I know I’ll be alright
for now.