She showed up unannounced one day--the Dread,
her bloodshot eyes sunk deep into her head,
and brought with her the stink of something dead.
She was young and tall, her hair a fiery red,
her ribs protruding, body underfed,
the floorboards hardly noticing her tread.
I let her in my kitchen and my bed
without a single word between us said.
The mirror's silvered glass became dull lead.
At sunrise I discovered she had fled
and left an ash heap, seven lengths of thread,
and thirteen howling voices in her stead.
Though I was just a child, that night we wed,
and for her love I bled, and bled, and bled.