Nightmare Poetry

I was your most brilliant

and deadly creation.

The ink poured  

from your fingers,

your heart.

Painstaking hours spent,

sketching me into existence.

Your love willed me to life.

It took time to learn how

to lift off the page.

First a twitch of a finger;

then a hand.

Then my arm,

lifting off the page to caress your face.

While you sketched,

I etched my living soul

inside your inked lines

on paper.

Inching off the page,

I finally crawled my way to you.

Your only mistake?

Drawing that knife in my hand.

My pen: the knife.

My ink: your blood.

My canvas: your skin.

Now you have become

my

beautiful

creation.

And I cannot wait to make more…