4/12/17

Side note: “the ancient city Lamark, where wounded heroes could find comfort and heal after battle.”

The blanket cocoon suffocated me,

until my drowned lids parted wide and gasped

    to watch a crevice soaked in ebony.

Empty almost - my sleepy lover masked

no indifference to the foot of space

between my hand and his, fingers un-wreathed,

mourning on mine, apathy on his face.

Silence broke while his teeth chattered and seethed,

hailstorms of worry far from Lamark’s port,

reactive depression burning insides.

But as he twists in denial’s broad court,

the moon unveils what he desperately hides;

a young boy in the dark bleeding still --

as a young, weary girl stumbles uphill.