A gothic romantic poem which explores the feeling of being haunted by the loss of a lover.
Black awning covers the sky
as the world goes to sleep;
all but I, because I am so haunted.
I leave my bed in robes of white
and glide bare-footed and candle-lit
into the trees, the deep woods,
and feel comforted by the rich darkness,
the shadowy sky.
Haunted—I am the starless night’s mistress;
the darkness frightens me not.
I walk swift-footed, along with the bats and ghosts
and nighttime creatures,
through the splendid gloomy night.
I walk until I find the place
that brings you back to half-life.
Ritual, I slice my skin so white,
and give it to the night.
And against the oldest, wisest tree
I make my sacrifice.
The night demands more,
while I beg for only one thing—to see you.
I have come to the place,
and when the night has sufficed,
I crumple to the root laden ground
and allow you to haunt me,
mind and soul.
In this moment I delight,
though you are but a shade,
anything to see your eyes
and to feel your smile.
As day breaks, I return to my bed
no longer pure,