a tragedy of some kind

ante meridiem

"In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day." ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

It's three o'clock.

The night is quiet.

But,

If you listen,

you can hear the moon howling.

Howling in anguish.

For all the lost souls.

The ones by day,

who cannot find their way.

But by the light of the moon,

feel the darkness swim on their skin,

And for those few hours of profound tenebrosity,

they feel alive.

Reveling in the solitude that juxtaposingly,

makes them feel less alone.

The night is mine,

with all her stars.

I can feel it moving within me,

It wraps me in its blanket.

Promising me solace.

If only while for a short while,

before it disapears once again.

A bit like you did.

But the difference?

I know it will find me,

Envelop me in its moonlit immortality once again.

I just have to be patient.

I couldn't say the same for you.

The window glisten with hours old rain.

Do you remember that time Logan?

That time we kissed in the rain,

More than once retrospectively.

Do you remember?

Do you remember Logan.

I do.

I suppose you've forgotten.

You kiss a different set of lips in the rain now.

Oh how I would kill,

To kiss those lips again.

To feel the ecstasy they inspired.

Just one more time.

I would set the world aflame.

For you to see me the same way you used too.

Just once.

To look at me as if you were seeing right down to my soul,

and still loving me despite what you saw.

Like you used too.

Everytime you visited the demons,

stirring behind my evergreen orbs,

You would told them,

not today.

You were the burning sun,

to my melancholy moon.

You still are.

Always

You cared.

Atleast I thought you did.

How wrong I was.

I told you every truth.

Even the ones I had not yet whispered

to myself.

You took them from me,

telling me I would never feel them again.

You lied.

They returned just as you fled.

The flame of my old lighter flickers in the darkness,

burning the tip of another cigarette.

Of all the wicked addictions that you

insinuated into my life,

black shadows I can't escape,

even if i could,

even if I wanted too,

this alone has always been mine,

and mine alone.

But now your gone and they're all I have left.

They call to me in the darkness,

Like ghosts in the night,

And I cling to them.

Like a mad man to his last shred of sanity.

I crave these devilish desires.

But they're never quite enough.

Like a yearning I can't replace,

With anything but you.

I am closer I think.

But not yet.

Not quite yet.

-Delilah