Monster

My Muse/Self Recrimination or Dark Poetry Revisited

                                            Monster


              The monster in the closet sits languishing on the shelf
              "You don't love me anymore," it whimpers, mostly to itself.
              "These bloody fangs and groping claws have naught to chew or hold;
              The burning hunger that once consumed me has grown, oh so cold.
              My days are numbered, unless soon again I gnaw upon your bones.
              No, you don't love me any longer--or else I'd not be so alone;
              But, knowing you--you will try to love again; and then,
              When the lights have dimmed, I'll feast upon your soul."