Devil’s Game

by villow

An Angel soaring by the seaside cliffs
Saw Satan casting nets in the sway
And hovering over his beautiful head
She saw him look at her and say,
“Ah, beautiful one with the gold on your hair,
Honour me with the gift of your name…”

She settled beside him and looked in his face
At the laughter in his gleaming eyes
And saw something more poignant that she could not place
But that whispered his hurt from foul lies
And touched her inside. At that moment she knew
She would follow him true without shame.

And he sang her his songs and he spoke to her heart
And each day her wings singed that much more,
And she gave him her soul with no thought they could part
While the waves gently beat on the shore.
She loved him with a love as deep as it was pure
Hoping perhaps it would his wildness tame.

Came the day that she saw in a seaside pool
Her tattered and pitiful wings
She knew she would never have another God
And Satan would rule her in all things;
Still she accepted this. She looked at him with trust
And then saw how he had changed.

“It’s time”, said he, “for this moment to end.
I need to get on with my work.”
Bewildered she stared at he whom she adored
And struggled to swallow her hurt.
“Remember,” she whispered, “how I care for you.
My feelings will always be the same.”

And Satan replied with a cruel, evil smile
As he roughly cast her away,
“You should have been wise enough to stay out
Of the games that the Devil can play;”
And the Angel shattered on the rocks below
With a last whimper that was
His name.

Frozen… again

by villow

In the light of the embers I sit and I look
at her face in the fragile glass frame,
And the drink in the glass just empowers the lass
to reproach me the curse of my shame…
A knock on the door, and who could that be
in the grey of this cold, freezing dawn?
I’ll go see … and beseech him or her to leave me
to my orgy of horror alone.
Onto my doorstep creeps a haggard old lad
With a bundle of rags in his hand
“She’s gone!” comes his groan, “she’s not there,” and he moans
And holds out a small pouch of gold sand.
And the fear in my heart moves to terror and grief
as I realize the truth of the thing:
the sand that now flows through my fingers I know
is the dust of her engagement ring.
Betrayal of love is the worst of all crimes.
I’d played her for my pleasure alone…
She’d believed in her heart that we would never part
and I killed her – to make her be gone.
Then a breath of perfume comes over the room
and a whisper like gossamer thread:
“Dearest one, I forgive you and never will leave you
and we’ll meet at the rise of the dead.”
But my life will be long listening to her song
as my soul dies a bit more each day.
For the angel I killed had yet my heart so filled -
Hell itself would not suffice to pay.

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