Many a night there is a
Strange
Knocking on the bare floors of
My abode.
A
Tremor in the dust
Mildew
Grime
That wont clean itself up.
I wonder;
Where are you now?
Who's arm is it that holds you
Safe
While I weep
Like
The black widow
I am?
Many a night there are
Tears on my cheeks
A sigh on my lips as I ask,
"Lady of Sorrows, why do you live inside my
Head?"
She never replies and I
Sit,
Stare,
Wait,
For new a new fly to land in my web.
