[14] IS THERE SOMEWHERE
I know we're designed to linger behind
closed doors and looming shadows.
In the dark, where staring back at it
could stretch from light years to
infinities, and for a time we don't
remember that dawn is coming to
snatch our midnight fantasies and
replace them with truths.
[They're with me, not you.
The dawn knows I need them more.]
But I'll hand you one: is there somewhere
we could hide our secret besides the
dark? I am worn out from pulling
the curtains down, and waking up
alone and afraid. I am tired--of
slipping on the same mask and
wrapping myself with the
same myths.
[Please believe me when I say
I would rattle the stars to find more
than the dark for a safe haven.]
But a lie, and it's from me: our secret.
Withstanding the years it would take
for us to touch every corner of dawn.
Staying--because that's all I want you
to be good at, better than most.
But I am hollow when light
comes to claim you.
[And I'll remain dead
until the dark arrives again.]
YOU ARE READING
Witherland
PoetryAgain: precarious. When blood remains, I see the world tripping over the edge of the sword, red and forgotten. They drop, drop, drop-- balance. And we fall endlessly. [a poetry series by alice © 2017]
