she
who heeds his call
and enters the circles of hell
with a weathered heart
to crack her ribcage open
and release the creature
hiding under her skin
is fluent in death.
she
who lets him out to roam
and feast in her sorrow–
her rage; eye to eye
until her heart aches
sees nothing but wilderness.
she
who seeks the shadows
with divine intention
and wilts in the sun
throws away the keys to heaven
for chaos feels more real
than her own beating heart.
