therapy

Afterglow

My thoughts have come and gone.

They grew into nightmares.

They chase me with my eyes closed now.

I fell ill.

Not because they chase me until my feet hurt,

or blister my hands while I crawl through dirt.

 It's because I don't hear them anymore.

I look in the mirror and see you.

But my soul - I can't hear you anymore.

Shall I write? Shall I sleep? Shall I eat?

There's no response from you, my dearest Soul.

But what is a man if thus soul had left and he's only an empty coat of skin and flesh?

As if our love had grown cold you.

As if your pain is a part of me.

I sleep again to see you,

Even if you kill me.