She comes at midnight -
when the world is asleep and my heart lies in wanting.
She promises me freedom from pain, freedom from fear:
promises that she alone can keep
but which my soul is too cowardly to appease.
“You are unwanted,” I reply, even as my heart beats faster and my ears strain to listen.
“You are unwanted.”
She laughs at my powerless whisper,
gently mocking my hypocrisy, but I welcome her rebuke.
The pain of festered wounds long since healed she renews,
lovingly, as though in an embrace.
I sigh beneath the agony, welcome the pain that is relief compared to so much unseen anguish.
She promises again.
I blush to admit it, but her words are enticements, silky and soft and satin.
I hear them with longing for courage and shame at my weakness.
fatigue defeats sadness,
and the world turns away.