Shadowman

“So the darkness shall be light, and the stillness the dancing.”

                     T.S. Eliot

The grass is wet and cold on my feet. The ground soft and dewy, grass tickling my ankles. I am running. The moon a bright bulb illuminating my path. I smile knowing you are here. You will hold me. I will trace the scar that etches your face from eye to top lip. I love burying the tip of my tongue in the split of your lip. Which life am I at now? What number? Is it almost finished? I haven’t behaved myself well. I have been quite naughty this time around. I feel my soul is already black and weeping. My sweet dream. My shadowman. Gone before I wake.

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