We all have our demons

I remember a 2 a.m. phone conversation.

Texting until our eyelids grew heavy.

I let her see my biggest fears and strongest passions.

She introduced me to him.

She'd first met him as a teenager and could never stay away.

Their encounters were always intense.

She'd try to drown out the shouting,

But he always managed to burst through.

Still, they'd argue and fight constantly.

She wanted to spend a night out with the girls.

He'd say: "No stay here with me."

She had places she needed to be.

"You know you'd rather be with me."

She screamed silent cries: "I wish we'd never met!"

He'd laugh and whisper back: "You don't know how to live without me."

And she didn't.

So she'd stay.

She'd take him in her room and lock the door. He'd open himself to her and she'd dive right in.

Put her lips to his cold mouth to feel the warmth in her chest.

Then she'd hide him away, but leave his taste on her breath.

And the thought of him in her head.

Her Demon.

She treated him as a substantial being to make him easier to fight.

But no matter how hard she tried,

Her Demon wouldn't die.

If you can't beat 'em,

guess you gotta join 'em.

So she'd create memories she wouldn't remember,

and have nightmares she'd probably forget.

But she didn't believe in regret.

She'd tease the beast and flirt with death.

I've met him on several occasions.

I was speaking from experience when I said he was bad company.

I can't be around her when he's there.

I can't bare to see another friend suffocate.

 
This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
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