Return
I dwell in constant shadow,
whispering against midnight.
I live in lies,
weave webs so convoluted
you cannot fathom their pattern.
And yet you tried
to blind me with my own shadow,
thinking I won’t notice.
Go,
spend your nights in another lover’s lap.
I will no longer fill your bed,
nor fluff the pillows under your head.
I am not shackled to the bed frame
for I coughed up my own key,
and fled in the night.
Where have I gone?
Far from you.
Far from the fires you blew.
The ones that melted my woven webs
and shed light on shadow.
I thought my body a tundra, but
you thawed my frozen heart
only to put a spike through it.
So I return to lie
in forgiving darkness,
nursing splinters off my flesh.
Do not come find me.
Do not burn your light through
my sheer wall of shadow.
I know you will.