The little boy with little toes and tiny fingers (who at one point was part of me) is my world, and he won't stop being that until he's full grown.
Off to either rule the world like his father or save the day like he seen Uncle Peter do with that crooked grin of his.
(and these days that silly grin is aimed at me and won't leave until I kiss it away)
I don't have to worry about which side he'll choice, the dark where his blood is or the light where I am, for many years to come because right now he doesn't even a full head of hair or any teeth to speak of.
But the evil I had been hiding him from (the one that is flesh and blood) decided it was just the prefect day to walk through our door,
Smiling that wicked grin of his that he wore at our almost-death, and do so without a care in the world.
(as if just walking in, the invisible blood still screaming from his hands, and he was daddy once again)
"My god, Elle, he's beautiful. Just like his mother."
(and if my prayers come true nothing like his father)
My words were locked away in the throat, the ones that would slice him up (laced with the venom I had saved just for him) and send him on his way, and it was clear they were never going to come.
(my screams were stuck inside just like that night, filled with sand, love, and murder)
I was becoming just like before, not a drop of fight in me (not even a 'no' would cross my lips) and instead of pushing out the evil from my pure home I just welcomed it with open arms.
"His name is Noah, Noah Bishop (Gray is burning on my tongue) and he's your son."
(the son you almost turned to ash those long years ago)
"I know, Elle, and we're going to make such a wonderful family."
The words that should have come out (like 'get the hell out') were 'such a twisted and evil family' because that's just we will become and it's all my damn fault.
Because I was too weak to fight, too weak to keep away the evil that I had and still loved.
(and baby boy no longer little would be his father, body and soul)