The devil and me.

In the dark.

He takes my hand in the darkness and lay's me down. I feel numb like no feeling could come from my body again. He loves me. It's a savage love, it turns me inside out, lay's me bare before him.

His love is killing me. It strips me of everything that is me. Yet still it is not enough. Nothing is ever enough. I long to own my body again. His touch is cold, it debases me.

I long for something that isn't him. My body is a traitor to me, it still response to him. I hate my body. For one long moment I struggle wanting to be set free.

He uses his weight against me. I am trapped, naked and helpless. Even as he takes and takes from me, the world moves on. I can only believe the world is as I am now, cold, indifferent. This would be the last time we lay together, though at the time I didn't know it.

The first night I slept alone, after leaving. My body felt like mine again. I wept wondering where I had been all this time. Ready to rediscover the me, that had been held down, but was still here. The voice that needed to speak.

He would always ask why? Why did you leave. How do you explain? Sorry doesn't help anymore. Sorry is pathetic. It's an excuse, to see and hear nothing. To never take ownership of anything. The truth is your killing me.

You have taken away who I was and now I don't know who I am.