Feeling creeping in—
like darkness swallowing me whole.
Inhaling the smoke rising
from the ashes of my ruined soul.
Agony reaches quietly,
withering away like the wind,
like my habit of turning aside
even when my heart aches for it.
I swallow sorrow in silence,
watching the gentle touch
of a father’s hand upon his child—
and wonder how long I have wished
for something so painfully small.
For my own heart
to remain untamed,
and wild.