The Banshee Lover

You, a woman of epic beauty:
long silver hair, shining under
the golden sunshine, brought
much devastation in my world.

A quiet soul, I was, living on my
own. You destroyed me.
They warned me of your
monstrosity. I shunned them.

I waited for the owl’s hoot
every midnight: my ritual.
My ears awaited your shrieks,
your wails. I prayed they’d
never recede, as someone’s
soul was delivered to hell.

Howling, moaning, screaming,
your voice imprinted on my
heart and soul. You owned me.
With every wail I heard,
a spark of dark, black flames
ignited. My soul turned to ash.

I prayed for you. I prayed to you.
My soul sold to the devil.
I screamed in my slumber.
No rest ever came hither.
I begged to catch one glimpse
of your deathly countenance,
and the sadistic heavens
nothing did, but listen.

They say beware of your heart’s
desires, but from the start,
it was already too late.
You came for me, my sweet.
You came for my soul’s heat.
Screaming and wailing at my gate,
you found nothing but a
cold hard stone heart.

I had nothing to give you,
you had nothing to take.
Ironic, isn’t it? You destroyed me
by failing to banish my soul-
so tainted by your love,
even hell rejected its darkness.
You were my life, I was your death.

Many a medals they gave me.
Brave, honorable they called me.
Little do they know, that I was
a devastation they should fear,
not honor: the banshee lover,
the banshee killer, the banshee
destroyer, the banshee’s betrayer.

Disclaimer: I do not own the artwork. It is “A Friendly Banshee; drawing by H.R. Heaton” retrieved from–An-Irish-Legend


  1. drewdog2060drewdog2060 · November 16, 2013

    Very well written and deeply disturbing as you, no doubt intended it to be.

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