He holds a place in my mind like the first love that you never recover from. The one you never forget. The secret affair you keep in your heart. The person you think about late at night when the sun is setting. When that one song comes on you can't help but smile a sad smile. You see their faces in large crowds. Their memories are a haunting ghost. A poltergeist in the mind, a spirit you never want to exorcise.

The higher it rises, the longer its milky rays stretch out, grabbing at the Earth. Illuminating the present and keeping the future in its chosen shadows. it leaves enough light to see glimpses of the ****** battlefield of the past. The scent of mystery, dragging us along. its whispers pulling us into temptation, it rises in us just like the dark light itself. The breeze tries to warn us, the leaves rustling with urgency. our selfish nature corrodes our every limb. Drying out our throats. The shadows tell us, only one sip of that milky light. We grasp our hungry, shriveled, needy hands around its throats. and we drink, drink, drink. Our throats stay as dry as a dead carcass being left in the sun. The milky rays, taste better than any earthly substance. Our human takes over, wanting more and more. Never satisfied. The shadows laugh, as dawn approaches, and they creep back to their hiding
places. The sun rises, and we see our reflections. blood dripping from our hands and mouths. Steamy tears dragged out of our eyes, the air gets yanked out of our lungs. The oak sighs, we wanted so badly to hold the future. We couldn’t be satisfied with what we could have. screams take over.  Our ears sting with regret as we hear the faint laugh of the shadows. dots start connecting like constellations. We’ll never be satisfied. throats, dry, eyes dryer. nothing left in the body. A husk, empty skin. it’s absorbed into the Earth below, the trees take the soul up into its branches. Adding a new leaf, the older souls stay silent. they are the past that’s supposed to warn the future. they hold history. That’s why they are made into books, the many pages that warn others of their past iniquities. The wonders of the night and promises of the shadows, mask, the evil plan of the night. Drawing people in. Making them see who they truly are. The earth shutters as those milky rays return, reaching out. Its evil shadow climbs at its next victim. The leaves shake as they hear that shadowy laugh pierce the night sky.

The hold he has on me. The absolute control on my mind. It's like he's holding a knife to my back and I thank him. I love the grip he has, choking my thoughts. Making sure every breath I breathe is him. He is my addiction. His voice, my inner monologue. I hate allowing myself to become attached like a lost puppy. I felt I had no control like a car on ice. Spinning out of control. Why do I enjoy the dizziness? Why do I enjoy the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing he is standing directly behind me? Knowing he could push me off at any second. Treading in the middle of the dark ocean. He circles me, his jaws could drag me down. Drowning me into numbness. Why do I enjoy the thrill of spiritual death? Why do I enjoy the torment of the feeling of bees buzzing in my head, the millions of nauseous butterflies flying in my stomach? The unknown is so repulsive, but It ties me down and drags me along. And I am the one who ties the knots. I don't try to loosen them, because I like the way it burns. He traps me, he must know he is pinning me down. I try to scream but he covers my mouth and tells me to not make a sound. And I willingly and reluctantly obey. The angle and devil on my shoulders are at war.

Four angry walls, their arms grabbing at me. They grab my heart, trying to strip me of myself. They grab my tongue, to remind me of the words they weren’t allowed to speak. They grab my ears, the ears that chose not to hear their cries. They grab my brain, poking and prodding. Hoping to find some humanity. I stood before the 4 unsatisfied walls. As empty as them. As angry as them. I screamed at the walls. Their arms pulled me in. My eyes were the only thing they left. Purposefully placed, so that I could see, that I have always been the 4 screaming, angry, empty, unsatisfied walls.

Sitting in a room with four white walls screaming at me. Begging me to remember them. I recognize the voice, but the face is too distorted.

My mind and body are my own Eden. He is the snake whispering in my ear. Telling me sweet nothings. Temptations growing, hand reaching for that apple. His devil eyes pierce my soul, reaching his hand around mine. Raising the apple to my lips. Questions course through my veins. Unsure of what to do or think. He whispers again in my ear, his voice making my heart pound faster than a thousand wild stallions. He tells me it can free me, and I will be able to run just as fast as those mystical beasts. I fear his power, the control. I fear how easy it was for him to dig his powerful hands into my mind. Pulling the strings and nerves. Making me feel what he wanted me to. Did I even try to deny it? Did I even try to fight back? Or did I allow such trusting eyes to get the best of me? He is the twig snapping in the woods. The shadow out of the corner of your eyes. He is your darkest desire. He is the want and the need. He controls human nature. He is the thoughts we don't share. The master of the soul. And I have allowed him in my mind, willingly. The temptation of fate. He is my weakness. I enjoy the hairs rising on the back of my neck, and the feeling of eyes constantly on me. His most inhuman nature has never made me feel more alive. His hands were on me, our lips almost touching. He whispers one final time. Telling me, all I have to do is take the first bite.

Your memory melts over my mind. Trapping it. It starts in casing my body like warm, sticky Amber. Preserving you for a lifetime. Suffocating me in a hateful bliss. I am stuck, wanting more of you. A mosquito drinks blood to survive. I want to drink all of you. I do not fear the Amber dripping into every pore. I do not try to run from it. Alike to a dying rose, I am happy dying, I know how the sun feels, the warmth on my petals, and the praise it has sung to me. It gave me what I needed to grow. For I cannot be mad at the sun for leaving. It did all it could do. Even as a lie here, decomposing. Worms creating holes in my thorny heart, I can die happily. For  I know how the sun feels. I knew the dangers it brought. I knew if I flew too close to the sun, like a balloon cut loose. I would be more than just burnt. I would be scolded. Blisters of “what ifs” and “whys” covering my skin like a bad tattoo. I am to believe it is the most pain that could be felt, but yet I do not cry out in pain. I only cry out in longing. I knew the sun would set one day, and I knew it would never rise again. I lay in my own dug grave, I shiver. The dirt is ice cold without the sun. I grasp a single rose in my icy hands. Thorns cutting them, but I do not let go. I do not want to let go, even if it makes them bleed. The blood slowly trickling down, will only remind me of the warmth once felt. A feeling that I never want to forget. I look up at the stars dancing. Dirt inclosing on me. Burying me alive. Even as I suffocate, memories dance in front of my eyes, just like the stars. I cannot help but smile. For you were the one wielding the shovel.