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Black as Death; Sweet as Honey

You wait patiently in darkness and closed spaces,
watching for movement and touches of life to stalk across your vision,
Denial creeps in and you wonder what is real,
Are you even existent anymore?
The doors close around you, shutting you out, onto the black streets,
And yet you wait for someone to find you, to shelter you from the pain,
From the darkness and the need that drives you to wait,
To wait for something, anything, to happen; to save you,
You have so much time and so little to do but watch and wait,
But perhaps your time is running out,
Yes, you can feel it; you can feel the slow chill of death creeping in,
Like snow through a partially opened window,
It takes only a little to turn the whole house cold,
The chill is finding you now, gripping your heart in iron fists,
Whispering in your ear of death and destruction, of agony and loneliness,
You fight it, but secretly you want to give in, to just let go of everything,
To be finally free of anything keeping you here,
There are not many things, but there are some that mean the world to you,
Hope and a future, maybe love from another,
The hands grip tighter, “No”, they whisper, “No one could ever love you.”
But the hope still clings like honey, so sweet you can almost taste it,
You reach out but it draws away from you, so you pursue it,
The blackened hands squeeze your heart in torment,
Wrenching tears from your eyes and sobs from the depths of your soul,
You fall to your knees and weep as the last bit of hope flees from your sight,
“I’m ready,..” you whisper, your heart broken, “Take me now.”
“I know you are,” the hands murmur into your heart, the nails beginning to dig in,
Poising to take your life; suddenly they freeze, startled,
Someone has touched you, their fingertips linger on your cheek,
They travel down to your chin and lift your tear-streaked face gently,
Your eyes meet theirs and they’re filled with warmth, and something else even more profound,
Love,
In terror and fury the hands shriek and groan as they shrivel,
Fading into oblivion and leaving a tiny stain on your heart, the shape of a tiny black heart,
The newcomer’s love seeps into your body, warming you and making you cry new tears,
But these tears are tears of joy; you weep in their arms, for you’ve finally been found,
As their love reaches the depths of your heart and soul, it colors the black heart anew,
The small stain left behind from your agony in death is now white,
A symbol of your pristine hope and purity in love,
You have been found.




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