Tacenda ➵ poems

black figure

I stood in front of him,
He looked down onto me,
Eyes hostile,
Long arms reaching for me.
"Suffer with me." He speaks,
And my legs begin to shake.

I've tried running away,
But my feet were stuck,
They were stuck in some kind of mud,
Yet I begin to heave for air,
My lungs draining of oxygen,
Despite not having had moved.

I've looked around to get some help,
But even my surroundings are black,
And slowly my heart begins to be black as well,
My soul quickly following,
Until I could feel myself,
shrink into nothingness.

Years have gone by,
I ran away still from the figure,
Even if I had watched him dissolve,
Right in front of my eyes,
Vanishing from existence,
As his own darkness eats him away.

"Who am I running from?"
Sometimes I ask myself,
Only to realize I have become that monster,
I have been desperately wanting to get away from.

Oh if only I could rip off my skin,
And feed it to the sharks.
Oh if only I could break mirrors,
And use the shard to cut open myself.
Is this what loneliness he felt?
That monster I mercilessly avoided?

Now I understand,
He needed me to understand,
He needed me to comfort his own fear,
his fear of his own existence.
He only wanted to see another face,
And I deprived him the right.

How cruel could I be?
I deserve this penance.
One day I'll disappear into nothingness as well,
And join him in the world,
Where broken pieces of ourselves float around,
To remind us of a lifetime,
When we weren't so sad.