Your light and dark plays with me.
Essence of night is the fragrance you wear.
Silence is the word on your lips
As with a gaze unwavering you stare
Succeeding again at unmanning me.
Twilight and rain clouds wrapped about you
Like a mantle of darkness
You are shadows, a certain chill in the air.
An absence, a sickness,
An addiction I keep on returning to.
You are the bones, the secret within.
The whisper deep underground
Forever echoing in the dark.
You are the fatal cry. The final sound.
I am your victim. You are my sin.
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 
Your words paint like you’re creating a Dutch master’s painting
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Reblogged this on Made of sticks and stones and commented:
And so I reach the last day of my review of the last twelve months, ending with a poem about desires that go bump in the dark …
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