She visits me in my most
dark dispair.
In the midst of my ebony
nights.
Shackeled in chains of
her life long pains.
A vail of black covers
her eyes.
She sits with me, her cold
hand reaching and
holding mine.
Cursed she is and long
suffering.
A life in the dark of
her sadden time.
Dressed in depressions
long black dress.
She comes to me in her
sad dispair.
Though I not see the
sadness of her face.
I know it is her curse
I share.
In silence we sit,
a word between us
not spoken.
Yet it is the silence
that we know.
And so
loudly hear.
Telepathic,
I sence her voiceless
cry.
Calling me into
her hopeless embrace.
Her open arms
have they long await.
Know not what I should
decide.
Upon her pale dead
skin.
Wrists scared by the
end.
By her suicide.
My tears fall.
My crys braking the
silence.
Nocturnal Lady in
Depressions dress.
Will she come again.
©anthonyjm
A