I watched the thread,
slip from my fingers,
cold as steel.
I couldn’t hold the end,
or trace the start.
Like a shadow in alleys,
following the hunt,
its shadow in my chest,
too swift to name.
I watched the thread
through the silence.
You can only sense
when nothing stirs.
I felt tremors pulse
through skin, through bone,
feeding questions to the dark,
unanswered, unclaimed.
I watched the thread
inside my chest,
hoping to touch
what waits beneath.
I felt desire untamed,
in pulses I could feel,
lost in corners,
no soul can satiate.
I watched the thread
through the unraveling,
at the edge,
hoping I can find
a space to breathe,
with the hunger and the ache
that leave their mark,
lingering, a weight I cannot shed.
Supposedly, if we look deep enough inside ourselves we’re bound to find the answers that haunt us. I for one have never had much luck with that. All I find are more questions and a murky shadow.
A lot of us find shadows instead of answers when we look inward. Your comment captures that feeling well, Tim.
Powerfully penned, CG. Another excellent write with deep layers, and dark undertones hiding in the shadows my friend. Amazing work. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian. Truly appreciate you taking the time to read and share your thoughts.