Cobwebs in the Corners

When I was little
Evil lived next door
as a stranger
with good intentions

His house was made
of rickety planks
sagging together
all painted a dull shade
of sadness

One day he invited me in
and I stared
at the broken promises pickling in jars
and the lost hopes cobwebbing the corners
and the faded dreams
scuttling beneath the floorboards

But mostly I stared at his gnarled hands
which he told me were once
as beautiful and pale
as my own
but they had rippled and twisted
with each failed attempt
at doing the right thing

And then he asked me
if I’d like to stay with him forever
and twirl in his dances
of sinful delight
where I’d taste a freedom
that the good never know
but though I knew his words to be true
I ran out the door and tried not to look back because
I remembered
his tortured hands