What a visceral demon!
He steals across a window’s view.
To rob those listening…blind.
Leaving an illness.
Frank with expression but few words left to define.
I have not seen this renaissance monster.
In quite sometime.
Still he always keeps my lover in mind.
For the quieted voices, tucked in a far off place.
For the distant look upon her face.
The monster comes with a gloved hand.
Gesturing away all notions of sympathy.
And, in unguarded moments…redefines true misery.
The kind of which, you cannot touch or see.