In the Darker Hours

And in the darker hours,

My chest the nest of a skinny baby bird struggling to beat its fragile wings,

I am biting my fist,

Loathing you,

Loathing me.
 

In the darker hours I am stranded on my deserted island,

Choking on salt water,

Falling frighteningly in love with the images in my mind’s eye:

You filling the space beside me,

The gentle slopes of your apologetic shoulder blades,

Rising and falling in gentle sleep.
 

But in the darker hours,

Your presence a ghost,

You still never turn to face me anymore.
 

I crave your gaze,

To fall into that familiar passion with your cheekbones and eyelashes.

In the darker hours my deserted island is a cold night devoid of your warmth.

I drive myself mad chasing the remnants of your scent in my pillows.
 

I love you desperately.

I love you devastatingly.

You are always my first choice.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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