Poems for the Brave

He's Back.

I wonder what is that's making me shake,
Quake like the earth tremors in my wake.
The shadows quiver cautiously, like the end of a bad horror story.
Only then I realise it's you,
You're back, you're not sorry,
Gem eyes peer through blinds of white
Green smoke billows from your long ashen pipe,
You slink through, dead but more than alive
And settle yourself on me; I scream and I writhe.
But too late, my friend, you win.
Here are my wrists, punish my sins,
Eternally replenish what's yours: my soul.
Make me bleed, and cry,
For God's sake make me cold.
Welcome back, shadow.
Welcome back to the old.