by Maria Kintner
I keep being reminded
that I need to forgive myself.
To show mercy upon the wounds
that beg to heal.
I let myself be deceived
by the same demon who has always
peered into my lighted windows;
in all his different faces,
and different clothes.
He slithered into my house
like a drowsy fragrance.
He tasted my food, and
left kisses on my cheek.
I knew enough to keep him from my lips.
But I clapped my hands in the darkness;
sent the salt to scatter.
Behold the power of the Wind, I said,
and chased him back to hell with a puff of smoke.
There are no more shadows,
no more lies to whisper icy cold in the nape
of a warm neck.
Only sunlight, only the green of plants,
and the smell of good coffee; the smile of
soft kisses, real and alive, in the corner of my mouth.
Author's Note: what's done is done.
Posted on 02/03/2021
Copyright © 2021 Maria Kintner