Ache

On the rare day I forget you exist,
I breathe. I
can breathe.
Like that time I
shared with you the origin of the word
nightmare. The woman, beautiful,
and naïve in her own precious way,
drifts quietly to sleep
unaware, of the stallion
the beast on its way to her bedside.
Upon arrival, the Incubus, passenger
of said horse, dismounts, and
following the undressing of the beautiful
woman, begins at once to consume her
skin
tissue
heart
lungs
spleen
brain
bone
Rape, cerebral.
Dreams interrupted, battered
by the gremlin on her chest,
crushing innards,
breaking ribs
and suckling.
Yet and still, she readies herself
night after night
with blush colored rouge
and bright pink lips.