25 sonnets on the whedonverse
Dark Willow Remembers
Everything was so simple back then:
mean kids, homework, the giddy joy I took
in my own mind, and the sweet laughing look
he’d throw my way, my love for him. But when
You came to me in fashionable shoes
and perfect skin, a kind and smiling stranger,
The New Girl, bringing unimagined danger,
how could I know all that I stood to lose?
And who might I have been if you had not
asked me for help that day? Would I have known
my girl, or lost her? Would I, all alone,
Have let my power ripen and then rot?
Who could I become, if not dark willow?
Who would I have been, outside your shadow?
Willow, to Rack
You called me Strawberry when we first met—
That first time Amy brought me here and I
offered to pay you, trembled as your eyes
roved over me—but I was so beset
by need for what you had I let you take
a taste, a little tour, that was the deal,
the sordid price to spin on your pinwheel
of magic for a time, and soothe the ache.
Remember how I tasted? Try me now.
Dark gods, the fruit is rotting on the vine
A taste, a tour, I’ll drink you up like wine,
I’ll drain you and all mercy disavow.
This juice is bitter, boiling, black with grief
and even dead you offer no relief.
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