You are my Satan

You are my Satan.

You broke me. You got to the bottom of things. And accomplished everything you could have ever had nightmares about. You managed to break me down without dropping the pieces, so that you may still pull the strings and make a distorted puppet dance to the rhythm of your charcoal soul.

You are my Satan.

You acknowledged every part of me that I did and didn’t want to see or be seen, exposed it to the light, melted in the sunrise, and then let it shatter as it crashed like crystal dreams against the floor.

You are my Satan.

You saved me from falling into insensibility, into forgetful goodbyes to things I never felt. And then composedly walked away, into a speeding car or a blurry highway, and kept your distance with lips carefully fit closed.