The darkness pools around me;
A viscous, shadowed cloak that absorbs all but my loneliness.
I am certain to drown unless she wrench me
from myself.
She, who slashed the blackness
with great welts of light.
With her merest of touches she could silence the demons
that twisted my every thought.
In the hollowness of night,
when all is more real than it should be,
she was the warmth that mellowed my qualms.
Now, I clutch for something to hold
as fear pulls me deeper underground,
brandishing my body with lead weights.
How pitifully poetic one becomes
when left with just themselves.
It’s as if the heart puts everything into its dying cries.
The music of a martyred soul.