When I saw him, I knew that he was the only one,
The only one there would ever be.
I wanted to touch him, to hold him,
To breathe in his scent & trace his lips with my finger.
He was so cool, so self-assured,
So very gorgeous, so very married!
The ring on his finger stabbed my heart.
His wife, his childhood sweetheart.
How could she know what it's like?
The long hours, the stress,
The misery when you lose,
The fear when you lose.
The Senior Partners!
And Holland!
How could she be supportive?
All she can do is love him.
No, that's not all!
She can have his baby.
Not that I want a baby—ever.
But she has part of him inside of her.
I hate her.
My body aches for him.
But what do I get? My boss.
Lecher, pervert, emotional blackmailer, Evil, Evil, Evil!
I hate him. I fear him. But I'm evil, too.
I see heaven but I must settle for hell.
At night I search the archives
Until I find the scroll.
Naked, chanting, candles flickering all around me,
A pentagram on the floor,
I summon the demon.
I have no soul to offer him, only my body.
And I yield to his embrace.
Claws rake my back, teeth rake my breasts,
And his organ fills me. Hot! Hot! Burning!
The pain almost brings tears to my eyes,
But I won't let them come.
In the morning, I am in a new reality.
No wife, no child to be, he has no one.
Then she comes.
The blonde with "the sight."
Rosemary, for remembrance.
Innocent, naïve, unworthy.
But he loves her. And marries her.
Still he is not mine. All has been for naught.
But still there is Holland. Always Holland.
And Lindsey has a new love.
Again the candles, the incense,
The chanting, the demon.
Another reality, and that love does not exist.
Never existed.
But still he doesn't see me.
Another blonde, newly raised from dust.
She cost him his hand.
But she has his sympathy. And Chopin.
And then perhaps his love.
Even as she is dying, he loves her.
He brings her eternal life.
And risks his own doing so.
But he doesn't see me.
Again to the demon, to his fearsome embrace,
And Darla is no more.
Never was, never will be.
But three years pass from the day he joins the firm.
He has no one.
But he still can't see me.
A woman, an attorney,
Blonde, beautiful, sexy.
A younger version of me.
How can I be so old that I have a younger version?
She gets his body, but not his love.
Another woman, less sexy,
Brown haired, vulnerable.
Are all of his women vulnerable?
Can't he see that I'm vulnerable?
The other one, the innocent one,
An innocent lawyer? Oxymoron.
Yet he loves her. And she loves him.
Never for me. Never for me.
Again and again I call the demon.
Again and again a new reality.
A dark haired actress, not a good one,
Once rich and spoiled,
Now matured, earning her way,
Secretary to our enemy.
Once more to then demon.
A slayer with a checkered past
And a heart full of remorse.
He visits her in prison,
And promises to wait for her.
He always keeps his promises.
Even in one reality, no woman.
Angel is his love, and he is Angel's.
But always there is Holland,
Wanting me, taking me.
Finally the demon tells me
That there are no more realities.
So I choose the one least painful.
The one in which I stand next to him
While the mind readers come,
And his blood is spattered over me.
Over my face, over my suit,
In my hair. I can't wash it off.
Lady Macbeth, I understand you now.
No more Lindsey to haunt my dreams.
Not to see his smile again,
Even when it's not for me.
Just the firm and Holland.
Every Friday I take a white rose to his grave.
And kneel, but I can't pray.
Will I go to Hell?
No, I am in Hell now.
I have always been.