Farewell to a Fiend

Cait Yaga
Jun 5, 2024
1 min read

Updated: Apr 25

Tick tock tick tock

Goes the grandfather clock

As she wanders down the hall

Past cobwebbed peeling papered walls.

Skitter skatter skitter skatter

Mouse and cat go pitter-patter

Passed her blood-soaked hemline skirt

That drags through rust the dust the dirt.

Hush shush hush shush

The voices in her head all gush

Rest now child at last he's dead

His body's girth one last time fled.

Clang Elaine clang Elaine

The chains of prison yell her name

She smiles in spite of the pain

He'll never utter hers again.

Omits

I sing the obituaries I have since I was a child My father tore that spread from the newspaper Like a bite from burnt toast Disgust dripping from buttered fingers I would scoop it up like a treasure Each syllable syrup on my tongue

Hello, Mommy

I pulled my cardigan around me as I walked to the shed, the wind slamming the open door repeatedly against its frame. The sun disappeared behind heavy rain clouds, removing all warmth from the air, the cold clawing at me with skeletal fingers that sent goosebumps exploding across my skin. The shed was pitch black inside. I glanced back at the house, hoping the bath wouldn’t overflow before I returned.

The Art of Letting Go

silence and then listen in the distance wind rushes devours the fields rush turns to roar trees groan leaves prepare branches It’s time, we’ve got to go

It Ends with Hatchets (A Reflection of Dark Romance)

I don't like writing about romance. Nor do I like reading it. Kyra loved romance. All of it. Dark and grimy like charred honey. Our house was a smattering of her collections, side tables and chairs replaced with piles of characters I could never live up to. Oh, but I tried.

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