It strikes again late tonight.
The dripping of its condensed breath solid on my window pane.
I can almost see its teeth bared, its eyes, knowing, deceiving, making me think that it is something tasty and new.
Just a wolf, same distaste, same empty need. Nevertheless, the claws scrape at the window, begging me to let it back in to finish me off. Wouldn’t be hard, seeing as how my defenses have taken a tumble, crept back to the slumbering part of my mind, keeping their thoughts out of it, not letting in what logic would state. Scratching pains, fleeting thoughts of grasping what I want vs. what I need.
My image someone I know not, someone that I think needs a break from every soul, but who feels completion only through interaction with the very nails that tear back her skin, make her bleed the course of death that she chooses from the beginning.
Similar bile taste comes back each time she is faced with this beast, the drone of the drum he carries, the rip of his tongue as he calls her, beckons her to follow his demise. Only when she hits rock bottom, does she realize that this is the man she has run from her entire life. The man who will dish out the same she has given many before. Her match, but something she doesn’t need, doesn’t want, something that she doesn’t know if she loathes. Edging toward the window, she opens the glass and places her feet squarely on the ledge. Just as the form of his arms aims to clasp her toward him…she leaps, like a child from a swing, high into the stars, destined to never come down again.