Moonless nights flow like ink within my soul.
Shadows of ebony play among the deep recesses of the night.
Dark and forboding thoughts scamper through my mind.
Peace so elusive in the velvet blackness of the evening.
The light not long ago within me, is now distant and unreachable.
A bright shimmer hidden by the dense cover of the clouds.
The clarity of my thoughts obscured by the dark emptiness of nightfall.
The wounded heart crys to cleanse itself, and heal.
The ink only seeping deeper within to seer the shades of lonliness into the abyss of ones self.
Longing for a small essence of the once bright light to waft through the density of darkness.
Hungering to be touched only to be pitched into the cold reality of nothingness.
The bitter winds swiftly freezing the spirit, numbing all conscious thoughts into oblivion.
The vast expanse of the soul, frozen like the wind swept lakes of winter.
Iceiness the eminent seductress to nulify the pain.
Seasons flowing forward much like black ink will finally complete the process.
Time is said to heal all wounds, to freeze thy soul will bring sweet nothingness.
Then the spirit will lie in the vault of vacuity, waiting for the key to turn.
Shaded Shadows by S. Flint (lines)(c)1998 from the collection of Short Stories and Love Poems by the same author. aka "Ms Zoe"
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