Splitting Infinitives

alcoholicpoet.com

A sad poem about unexpected change. As if there is any other kind. 


yesterday i was only a number. now her words have been added to the puzzle.

her skin is a riddle that still remains to be solved.

the sharp corners give the devil egress. a single flame that haunts a lengthy corridor.

the light counts its footsteps as it approaches the door.

possessed of the enviable valor of the naive.

a thief itself, dwarfed by reason.

the light touches the window. to feel what it cannot see.

the chalky grins of its prisoners. the cotton eyes of their empty rooms.

the light holds its breath. 

violating her carefully curated darkness.

as it surreptitiously enters. 

undeterred. even knowing that,

once inside, there is no exit.


Filed under: December 2024 Sad Poetry