I’ve learned that hell is grey.
That the brimstone is cold and sharp.
That the devil himself weighs ten pounds;
And he sits in your stomach for months on end;
Setting cold fires;
Caressing your gut with his long,
He leaves you through the mouth;
Through the eyes.
He shakes you as he passes;
With talons in your nerves,
Leaving a trail of bile in places it doesn’t belong.
And when he is free;
He holds you safe
In a little box;
And he shakes you like an empty can;
And he sets you down disoriented on strange ground.
He watches as she cries in fear of an invisible tormentor.
He holds her down as she tears at her skin.
He strokes her hair as she stares vacantly into the horizon through dusty eyes.
He kisses her cuts and bruises and burns and scars.
He holds her so tightly and tells her the world isn’t ending.
He listens while she says some horrible words.
He soothes her when she wants to die.
He watches her eyes twitching with anxiety, her arms held tightly across her chest, her gaze shifting rapidly from one imperfection to the next.
He feels helpless.
All he ever wanted was to love her.
Keeping her alive is consuming his soul.