There are black shadows,
Hovering close on my bed.
Red pain curls around my back,
Holding me tenderly,
Singing black lullabies,
While I pretend to sleep.
There are cold shadows,
Creeping from corners,
Where devils once whispered of love.
Chill insinuates beneath the quilts,
A promise of forever, frozen anguish,
A personal token to keep.
What fright casts such moving shadows,
Which I cannot see defined?
All around is winter still,
But for swirling red-black darkness.
My strength ebbs, alone, with no light.
What is left, but to wail and weep?
Bear … 11.22.2014