Just a private conversation between the night crawlers…and, I.
As the sun wakes its weary head…mirrored reflections on mistakes made.
Holes bored into my soul.
Curled in upon itself…divots, to which I dare no enemy tread.
Modern day judgment comes often.
Frequently it is swift.
Always it is free.
I could tap love on her slender, shoulder.
But I appreciate that she not know such demons exist.