Good Thick Darkness
The darkness enfolds me like a cloak,
a good thick winter one
with a deep velvety pile
warm and comforting
matching it’s shape to mine,
the good thick darkness.
It was blue before,
then blue black
turning purple
purple black
before
the good thick blackness came
the good thick blackness
that I need to wrap me,
the good thick blackness that I like.
And I know that all too soon
it will be broken
penetrated,
first by the harsh, pinpoint lights
of stars
glittery things
pointlessly breaking up my dark
and then
as the day breaks through
splitting it open
cutting it
blue,
the blue day breaking
like a knife
opening up a wound
ripping through my comfort,
my darkness.
Not thick enough at all.




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