Possessed

He was the layer beneath my skin. And that is probably why even though he makes that skin crawl, he is such a part of me, I have no choice but to love him. Everything thing about him is wrong. From his treatment of me, his family, his friends, and anyone else that knows him To the way he doesn’t anything with me share. And when I tell him that enough have I had, he shrugs his shoulders and says he doesn’t care! Rather his verbatim is that he could care less. While from this emotional roller coaster from love to hate to hate to love, I lose and gain weight, am alert and aloof from all of the stress.

But when he is in me, oh my good Lord Jesus, when he is in me, I feel him touching my hurting heart, my sad soul. Even though to pieces he has torn me, it is then and only then in the midst of intercourse do I feel whole. His hands roam my flesh; these hands that normally are repulsed so that I am not privileged to feel his touch. The thoughts of the pain that was more prominent than the pleasure make me laugh at myself a little too much. More hilarious is the simile that says our union was like me always paying the bill for dinner, when we really were supposed to be going dutch!

Finally, our ways parted, and I was exorcised of the damned demon that dogged me, dragged me, and had me inconsolably depressed. It safe and sad to say that for four years of my life, love was confused, while I was really possessed!

 - by Selim Ann Morgan (Discovered by The Greatest Poet Alive Born December 1st)