Poem: Collecting Dues

[sherlockian_syn]

“The Devil’s greatest trick was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”
~Charles Baudelaire

You see, my dear,
I am capable of so much more.

In your dreams,
I will be whispering curses
into your ear,
against your mouth.
You will wake,
fooled into thinking
that I can be loved.

Go ahead and try,
my love, my darling
bleeding heart.
You say there is a storm
swirling in my eyes,
the only sign of life.
Believe it or not,
you are still dreaming.

It is only when we touch,
when your blood
seethes and boils
with anticipation,

when our lips meet

that the illusion shatters.
It is all a trick,
a game that only I can win.

Here is the lesson:
I am made of lies.
And you were ripe
for taking.