If Death is my Lover than the Devil is my Teacher (Lore III)

Patience is a virtue 

The phrase you taught me ironically 

When patience was never a method used in your parenting

Curses worked so much better 

Your hexes hang above me even now 

Miles away from your seven circles

You don’t like the way your claws can’t reach as far 

I can feel the way you miss cradling my head

Draining my face of color

You miss the taste of blood that came from breaking hearts

I miss the ringing in my ear every time you apologized 

If your childhood was full of beatings 

Wouldn’t the taste of iron be a sign of love?

You taught me vanity 

Sat me down with a mirror and a brush in hand and

Told me how to be worthy of worship 

How beauty was the way to a man’s heart 

Your hand preening a diamond ring 

How you made me walk red heels in a straight line

Until I could do it right, until I could walk with grace

Envy wrapped Him way up your throat 

Coughed Him way into my room late at night 

The day I went from a girl to a woman

A new vice 

How you’d bring me wherever you went 

Dress me as a doll of your youth 

Help you hide the vicious exterior that time has 

Brought to the surface of your scales

If everything is in your image

Are my accomplishments

Another sign of your success? 

I loved the taste of your love 

A creature of familiarity I found comfort

In your bruising touch 

I built a shrine to your name 

You cherished my offerings 

You gifted me Pride my 7th birthday

A lovely lie I 

Decorated His face with kisses 

I gave Him a handkerchief like He would be my hero 

I loved Him because you told me to

He attached to me like a leech

Blood leaked over my hands, 

It wasn’t always my own 

He grew bigger 

With my sallow, pale skin, and my vengeful eyes 

My head always held high by His hand

How we looked alike 

How I resembled you 

For the first time

My Pride’s handprints matched the ones yours left

Tracing my jaw, stopped only by the hardness of my bones

What a lovely cycle we made in Hell

A matching set, I wanted to build an empire like you

Made by you, your fear of losing control was stitched

Into my nervous system

How mature I was for my age you’d tell me time and time again 

How proud you were 

To have an old soul as a child

“How much you understand me and my sins, 

Darling,” you’d tell me,” I believe we’re kindred spirits

Similar souls 

We’re the same” 

I loved you like I’d been born needing you

Horns have grown from my head 

In the form of Sloth 

Him sitting on couches not doing anything 

Your frustration at Him

A sin not working for your pleasure

The way sitting still brings about new poison 

The way you threatened Sloth would kill me

Even now those words sit in my head 

The sin slowly crawling up into my limbs threatening 

To lie in there forever

You withheld Gluttony from me

I stole Him sometimes 

I pretended he filled the hole Death arose from

I wanted the addiction you hid out of guilt 

I wanted to hold you close but the bottles were always closer

How your dearest pleasure was never lost in closets and drawers and cupboards and under beds and inside car glove boxes

And the wine opener was always strong enough no matter how 

Weak you were from endless indulgence

Sometimes in the dark crevasses I can feel Gluttony search for me 

Wondering where I went and why I continued to leave Him alone

Greed liked me from the beginning 

He siphoned your attention convincing me 

Helping you was the love I could never have enough of

When that support was comfort 

How your own sin told you to let me 

How I could become your favorite child by the efforts of my labor

I couldn’t stop, I’m addicted to Greed 

I wanted Him more, needed it

How could that be your fault

Our selfishness was a shared desire

He taught me to give more 

I loved you 

You loved the feeling of me loving you

Lust was shoved down my throat with every open door I asked you to close

You said you had needs and needed happiness and

You said you’d always choose us 

An interesting theory never proven true* 

You taught me Lust lies in every man’s hands 

Lies in every man’s lips and tongue and throat

I’ve learned every ounce of His touch

I’ve learned every ounce of every touch I never wanted

Every part that reflects you 

Here it is tied and stained to me and my endless array of sins

I hate how you hold the key to my Wrath

Playing with the lock 

Fiddling with the box

Is there a mirror inside? What a glorious temptation 

Another excuse to look at yourself

Break it open 

See what lies inside 

Let the rest loose for the sake of your perfect image 

I know how to fight back with the same arsenal 

How you like weaponizing blame now that you’re not the only monster

I know where I learned my seven sins 

Where they festered and grew under beds and behind locked doors

Where they grew into monsters

But my claws still find their way into innocent souls

Like a compulsion–a reflex

And blaming the reason never ended in helping put on the bandages

How sweet this throne looks

A picture of glorified arrogance 

In the dark light of night 

Illuminated by fears

I look just like you 

Look at your line of lovers, my graveyard of tombstones 

We’re one in the same you and I

Look at your reflection

How ugly we are

The Devil and her daughter

* technically in any academic setting a theory isn’t proven “true” but rather would be proven false through forms of evidence or would be “not rejected” if evidence continued to not support it. In this case, I use the phrase “prove it true” colloquially and for the sake of fluency.