HE IS:
i. emerald like Envy, his glinting dark eyes whispering a thousand silent accusations but you can still hear them because they’re written all over; in the dilation of his pupils, and the strange darkness his irises adopt, and they swallow me whole.
ii. scarlet like Lust, his hand trailing down to feel the silk of my black lingerie. It stops between my legs, but has already smeared my thighs with the crimson of someone else’s blood. The corpse at my feet is staining the carpet with what I will have to clean. Later.
iii. flaxen like Gluttony, more, he says, falling deeper and deeper into the sinkhole. His treacherous tongue whispers words that are selfish to the core; his rapacious mouth has eyes on its own, devouring me, ravaging me. Impossible to sate.
iv. indigo like Greed, his lips are cold and azure from the blueberries he’d smudged all over them and his veins are blue but it’s not because of the fruit. He leans into me and hums, it’s not enough darling, you could give me the world and i still wouldn’t be pleased. His haunting murmurs still follow me around and mock me when i can’t see.
v. umber like Sloth, his hair looks darker than the usual but i still can’t tell if it’s the grease or the dirt from the grave he’d been digging. It was not meant for him and yet he sank in it, the front of his body adopting the very same color of his filthy hair. Bodies are hard to hide, you stupid whore.
vi. mauve like Pride, sweat makes his purple shirt cling to his body; it serves as his own relic of insanity, an oath in an armor. Give me the shovel, he says, and like all armors, it can be penetrated.
vii. ash like Wrath, and soon the irate scream fills my ears as the end of the shovel meets his skull; in those fragile moments before he collapses, i see all his true colors all at once. A color for every sin he’s worshiped, a color for every abstract sense he’s deified. Now I have two bodies to hide.
- He Is, (d.e)
