K A L O P S I A

FOUR

She was his little nightingale
a sweet song bird
who sung his praises

She was not a conventionally beautiful girl
just like a nightingale
with its small body
and drab wings
but nothing can compare to its voice

Just as nothing could compare to how much she loved him

Shadows grew jealous
of how much attention
he gave her

The sun was thankful
for a distraction
for too long it had lived in fear of him

Oh, how she loved him
relentless as ocean waves
unforgiving as burning flames

Only such a love was able to keep him
he was as ruthless as the salt torrents
harsh fury to challenge even that of bone-melting heat

The way he commanded the room
the way his voice summoned the dead from their graves
his eyes commanded the shadows to dance for his amusement

Everything he was
everything he did
was with the intentions
of an immortal, feared god

Nothing would frighten her away

Not even when he told her

"I like to kill people."