Your quickly flicking glances, the stance that I know is a practiced kind of casual, your watchful pretense at relaxed conversation, gently swaying it from one side to the other to cover the range of information required by your whims, I know you. I’ve seen your kind lurking in musky corners.

Yet, I honor the ghost of dances past. Your heady presence draws me closer, the parts of my heart that become so painful when they rise, I hear their song. I’m slipping, swallowed into despair as I feel Undying Hope, in her callous innocence, rising to take my place.

This is not a club of promise and illusions, young would-be lovers peddling white lies. We are in the forest held by your heart, reflected in eyes full of shadows, where primal hungers rule.

I walk through trees growing twisted in their age and desperation, wind-torn leaves fluttering rumors as I pass. A glimpse of your light leads me onward through treacherous ground, the hold of the muck growing ever stronger as I fall into the heady lure of danger.


Twitter #GrimList2019 prompt: Will-O-The-Wisp

P.S.- I wasn’t going to do the prompt today, but Emika’s Wicked Game was playing during my morning coffee/Netflix routine and shit happened.

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