(A poem that I've held onto for quite a while. I can never seem to get to the point where I'm satisfied with it completely, but here it is.)
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A hunger inside, threatening;
a need ripping through my very being.
Longing, a reality, not my own.
Pouring, a deluge in my veins,
and then,
a touch across my palm, a pain, a chill
a phantom drawing nearer still.
He tempts with a promise,
bequeaths tools to do his bidding.
You alone, he whispers, his device.
The blades he wields, spinning, throwing,
all for which I've ever yearned.
Knowing, seeing, he offers sanction,
gives delirium a knowing home.
Vengeance dies, reality falters.
Man in black, blurring the lines.
The killer regains consciousness:
the mind set free, a powerful weapon.
Retreat, advance, defend attacks,
the loss of life, more than a game.
A duel, a match, of equal strengths.
Pay the price, the pain endeavored
and wield the next, a blade unchecked.
The man in black, bows his head
hat off, unveils the secret hid:
The one you want, the love you seek
was me, he said, and turned up dead.
Pain returned, chill receding
lost, alone, tricked and bleeding.
A war, once fought, a man, a woman
killing love with spinning lies.
The knives we wield, the fear brought arming
living, fearing, dying, knowing.
Alas, he cries, you know too well!
Hat donned once more, veins made to fill
A ruse is all, a game I play.
picks up his knives and walks away.
Left to wonder, heart amok
wander through the winter trees.
The man in black, gone again,
a vow in my soul, death in my stare.
emotions: toys, words: weapons
challenge, a war game, up to bat.
Searching and finding, revenge to be done,
knowing his thinking, it won't be long.
This time, prepared, with knives of my own,
the last match for the pain.
Bringing love down, all over again.
Immortals, the both, trapped in this game
a snow globe, shaken, igniting the flame.
