Wisps of a Thought

Wisp #43

Reached out hand in the dark pool

reaching farther and farther to me

Tanned fingers in the cool darkness

which reach for my white palm

in which my ivory vendetta rests

"Let it go, let it go"

but my fingers curl tighter round her

"you don't understand, no one does"

"People love you, we can help you"

Reaching deeper, I sink deeper.

"What if I don't want to be helped?"

Black abyss in inkwaters,

sinking ever deeper into the blinding depths

which sing to me, a dreary song

but a song I know well, a song that sings to me

calls to me in my dark thoughts

a lullaby in my sleep which wraps me up tight

Soft and delicate, numbing.

"How would you feel if she took it?"

"NO" I pull back my hand,

ivory vendetta licks me with a silver tongue

and in the black ink, a new ink unfurls

with tendrils of smoky crimson, ruby, scarlet

with a whole new song of its own to sing.