This bed feels hard beneath my back,
while my head aches with swarms of beasts
trying to break through the door,
faceless demons who want to reunite with my bones.

They won’t.

This exterior has strengthened,
shielding the dark magic the devil tries to drill.
And my sword wards off the stragglers,
drowning the witches in water and smoke.

But sometimes I just want distraction –
from my head,
from my heart,
from its steady beat,
reminding me of who I am. –
Because, sometimes, I just want to drown out with the rest,
to fade into the crowd,
and feel ever-so-swiftly faceless.

See, sometimes I want a warm body to hold me,
for once in my life to live out pure lust –
animalistic and loveless. –
In a world where it’s use or be used,
For once I want to be the predator.

Rough arms to wrap around my bare back,
my legs to wrap around a smooth waist,
my body pressed against a cold wall
as a steady hand grazes my thigh,
a tongue that ventures around my earlobe,
and lips that travel down my *******,
but no eyes to look into, for this means nothing,
so eventually we can…

But I stop because it won’t ever be.
As much as I want to feel nothing at all,
even for just a few moments,
there’s nothing that will make me forget.

I’m too strong for this now,
too happy for this now,
that when I’d like to cry, I can’t –
lucky if a single tear cools my cheek,
but never enough to feel better.

Every time the wish arrives
my own voice makes the thought subside
with a single, chilling whisper:
I’m better than this.

So all I can do
is hope that someday I’ll eventually be rewarded
for the falters that led to my freedom,
a freedom that has chained me down…

for simply
being
me.