The image is there,
And I choose not to look away.
The amber sunlight
And the turqoise and the ruby and the blue,
All beautiful.
Dark. Dark. Dark.
Why must it be so dark inside,
When there is you and there is brightness
That I watch grow and blossom and recede
From the blackness here.
In the pits, the depths, the ends,
At the very bottom of what I see,
There is nothing wonderful left to happen.
Night-terrors then dreams not fit
For a human, cast a sky so bleak
Every night, like a heavy blanket
As I sleep.
Not quite suffocating, not quite madness.
No, no such sweet freedom, the mind remains
To work to distract and pain and shelter and run.
Nothing has been the same since,
And there is no answer in those things.
Why can't he die. Why won't you go.
Why did you have to be. Why did you have to meet.
Why did you ever come in fleeting beauty so fatefully, and destroy me.
