My raven, oh, how I’ve watched you for so long.
My patience is a sham, and I find myself tossing and turning about. What a fool I am. Goddamn! Is it really so wrong? But, perhaps, it’s good you are so devout. My raven, my love for you still burns. And oh, how much I yearn.
Let me rest. Let me rest, dear raven.
May my heart be still, because you know it will–skip a beat when thoughts of you race through my head as I ready for bed.
Unless…unless my mind does stress and fills my very dreams with thoughts of you.
Yes, I do confess…I have dreamed of you. Please, don’t be cross, do not detest. I’ve tried so hard, my very best to abstain from such habits but it pains me.
The cold ashes of unrequited love.
The raven and the dove—I, of course, the pigeon. A silly, infatuated, dumb bird, who’s love song has been deterred! Inside me there is something starved, some obsession that incurs. And now I cannot stop, you see, my mind it’s racing—soon, the demon stirs.
In darkness, appears the image of you.
I imagine you sleeping and like many nights before, I begin to fantasize. The fall of your hair, the shine of your eyes. Yes, you come into view, all your features and your chambers too. Who knew, that I, a woman of color would fall for an angel in blue—a cop, a good man at that, who would befriend me and make my heart react.
In fact, it has been a long time since anyone has ever made me so.
This is why I cannot let go!
I bring myself here, a nightly visitor, the dove perched upon the post—you, the host, sleeping peacefully as I grip the wood with talons long and black.
My raven, do you sense me? Do you feel my presence?
I see you toss and turn—perhaps you feel unpleasant? You roll onto your back, adjusting yourself once more. I gaze upon your arms and chest, and those muscles you worked for. I’m no longer sure, if this is a dream anymore.
Ah, the smell of you is sweet.
But I must get closer. I climb down onto the bed, and I creep!
I creep—and look down to see my hands are just as bird-like and grotesque as my feet.
The soft sighing of your sheets and the heat, which radiates from your skin warms me as I cross over your beautiful form.
My raven, I fear you must be warned.
I have a confession to make. I love you.
There, I’ve said it and oh, how I regret it.
Once here and at the shore. How pathetic, yet copasetic to find myself reduced to visits by night. Visits that leave you paralyzed.
I step onto you, one claw at a time. I cross your torso, your body so near. I get closer to your face and land upon your chest. Yes, my raven, its where I always rest.
Week after week, you talk of feeling oppressed.
Yes, those dreams you tell me of, the ones where you fear you are possessed, by some foul spirt who takes the shape of a bird like creature which nests right on top of you, your chest no less.
You’ve spoken of it, yes, so many times. You confide in me your thoughts, your pain and how this damn fowl demon has you in unrest.
Your eyes begin to flutter. A twitch of the lips, a groan, and a mutter. Your eyes open wide but you can’t move or scream, only sputter.
Look upon me.
I wonder, can you hear my broken heartbeat?
I sink my claws into you, right over your heart and I pray to the night that we will never grow apart. Your lips tremble and I feel you struggle to breathe—an agonizing thing that plagues you nightly, if at all, would not compare to love’s pitfall
You are the very suffering of my soul.
But tonight, I have you in my hold, by some dream or fantasy, perhaps even supernatural reality. For you, though, I’m sure it is a nightmare. I see the cross you wear. Dear raven, and I too have prayers that I share with none other than myself and the dark.
My remark, does it make sense?
Oh, how I am torn in two as I gaze down at you, frightened and stuck but I don’t give a fuck! A battle wages on within me and I smile! I smile, my raven, all the while, I watch your eyes grow wide with terror because you have come to realize you cannot move and will not move so as long as I am resting upon your chest.
Where is your faith now?
How much will your God allow?
All I wanted was to show you my love, my vow but…you don’t care anyhow.
So, I peck. A gentle touch that starts at your neck. The smooth press of my beak, a gradual thing that begins to wreck. I love you, my raven, and hate you all the same.
What a shame!
Night after night, we play this game. I peck, a dove’s kisses, a terrible thing fulfilling my deranged wishes.
I see it in your eyes as I revel in my prize. My adoration is everything you despise. I raise my beak over your face and shower you in sharp kisses with haste. Your flesh is soft and my lips a dagger, I peck and pluck and soon blood begins to spatter.
Oh, what’s the matter? Can you not stand my laughter?
You scream and struggle, those beautiful eyes now filled with disgust. Yes, hate me.
Hate me with a passion more intense than lust!
Ugh, look at you, your face is a mess…so how about the rest? It’s time for me to take your eyes, my dear. So gorgeous, so wide with fear, but we’ve done this before. You cannot escape and my beak draws near.
From you drops a single tear.
And then I am upon you, ripping out your eyes, straight from the socket. I bet your mind is breaking, my paralyzed poppet. Scream! Shout! Pray the demon goes away. But nothing will save you come night, nothing but the break of day.
…How still you lay.
I peck and peck, and peck…
And you are stuck…you are stuck…and I, my raven?
I…am love struck.