Night has fallen

A ball of silver hangs  low in a carbon sky that begs to be shared

It is the passing of hope that is difficult to bear

It was always there – a shadow – a vague promise

It is gone now

But the addiction remains

Not to Him

No longer to Him

But to the feel of the floor on my bare knees

A touch on my shoulder

Breath in my ear

A dark room lit by silver whispers

The flow of feeling that cannot be described

In sleep the cravings are divinely met

Sometimes – not all the time

In the harshness of my daylight reality

There is only the addiction – the constant craving …

 

 

 

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