When I let The Devil in.

I opened the window. (creak) I pushed at the hinges. Sat my face on a gust of wind, trapping it between my chin and the ledge of the window- the cold air struggled between wood and skin.

I opened my mouth wide, and let my tongue hang out, tasting mist and stale rain.

The corners of my lips tore.  I moved my tongue to the crevice and savoured blood.

Closed my mouth. I lifted my chin setting the wind free, and then hoisted myself up on my arms, swung my legs over, and settled on the wooden ledge.

I looked up and the stars faded out and the sky blackened.

I looked down and far below me, below my dangling legs and rotting feet, I saw earth. I saw earth and dust and sand and bones. I smiled. I smiled and I felt something wet nearing the end of my face. I lifted a finger to my chin and then to my mouth and I savoured blood.

I imagined my face, an abyss in place of eyes and a mouth bleeding red. (I smiled)

I looked down below me once again, squinting; I saw him. He stood there in blazing fire with his pitchfork in his hand, beckoning me, urging me, seducing me.

I shut my eyes. My body swayed now, and my mind had left. My soul was now decaying. I fingered the zip of my dress and then very cautiously, began undressing.

I sat on the ledge, naked above him. I smiled. He smiled, beckoning me, urging me, seducing me.

I knew what he wanted from me. I knew what he wanted me to do. He knew I knew. I hung my head low between my breasts and breathed. I breathed and I breathed and I devoured this feeling, inhaling and exhaling. (inhale) (exhale).

He laughed as I did this, so I stopped. I didn’t want to seem undecided. I stopped breathing, and when I did, he raised his pitchfork in approval.

I knew what he wanted from me. I knew what he wanted me to do. He knew I knew and this is what I had called him for. This is what I had called him for.

The wind returned. I held my palm out and let it settle between my fingers. I brought it up to my nostrils and breathed it in. I was breathing again. I looked down at him, and his figure was starting to diminish. The fire around him dwindled and his pitchfork began to break.

I stopped breathing. If I breathed, he would leave and I knew this.

He was getting impatient now, so I lifted my legs and rested on the balls of my feet. I peered over my angled knees and I watched his body react to mine. His figure was alight again and his pitchfork mightier than ever. He began to move as if he were dancing to the glory of my naked self, and with this I was ready to jump.

I stood up, grazing my arm on the hinges, tearing my thigh on a hook. I stood up and lifted my arms and held onto the top of the window. I steadied myself, legs apart, hands stretched high, chin up and a flailing heart.

I focused on his face below me and he looked back up. Our eyes met and mine started to burn. He held my gaze and he beckoned me, he urged me, he seduced me with his claims.

I let go of the mantle above me.

My hands fell to my sides.

My legs gave way.

My body lunged forward.

And as I dropped through mid-air, I saw him position the pitchfork, he knew where I’d fall and he was ready for me; I was ready for him.

But just before I pierced through it, just before my skin broke,

My soul screamed, it wept and for one fleeting second, I wish I hadn’t stopped breathing, I wish I didn’t jump, I wish I’d never let the devil inside of me.



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