In which I have wrongly assumed my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has left me

In which I have wrongly assumed my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has left me

And what a dark shadow you are

To have followed me this relentlessly

You can imagine how . . . afraid I am to see you again

Stumbling around in the dark again

Making me feel vulnerable again

But still as silent as ever

And oh how your fangs shine under the moonlight

Through your Cheshire smile

Laugh, as I tremble in my blanket

All sweat and plump-skinned

All ready to be devoured by you once again

And see, how really neither of us have changed at all

Your touch still burns ash marks on my skin

Your breath cancers my lungs

I am no more than an infant in your claws

Go on, stop drooling and devour me already!

I’m sure you won’t even have the decency to say grace before you start your meal