The Storm

Every night that goes between
The moment I close my eyes
And the instant I awake,
I feel a little less.
I sense eternal winter closing in,
And choking me as I stand.
This cold glory of heroic loss
Hurts like a tortured soul, being licked
By flames, and booted,
‘Til the bones slide, bruised from lilac flesh.

As I watch you run to smoke,
Run to save an innocent deserving life,
I see myself in black and white film
Break against my restraints, and
Call, curse with blinding passion,
Wrench my insides out with my pure demonic shriek.
But that hasn’t brought you back tonight,
Nor any stormy night that’s passed.

So I am forced to lie here,
Wrapped in sheets as cold as ice,
And as jagged, that
Cut and bleed my flesh,
Waiting.
Believing it’s just another test.
Your softness could smooth,
Could soothe these serrated edges,
Sharp as the knife twisting in my opened heart, but
Every night that you can’t come,
This softness fades away.

Every thought of you,
Every jutting angle, and jet black hair,
Every rose stained inch of faded flesh,
Every thought of you
Coagulates my blood
And sets my self to shakes;
My body tries to cry,
But you have howled my insides dry.
And ‘though I pine
And pray, and live in timeless pain,
‘Though I wander like the dormant dead,
Living through barren nights,
And blank out vacant days,
A deadly call to you remains,
Ever on my listless lips.
I search to find an answer,
The prize for my arduous test.

And every night when your
Ghostly presence wanes,
I try to say goodbye.
I try to let you go,
To rise up from the stormy ash,
Upwards, or just beyond,
But a bridal finger of mine crooks round,
And keeps you by my side.

Are you there?
The darkness is my tears, and I,
I love you.

I call again,
Are you there?