"Recoiling"

Recoiling.

I find myself recoiling from you.

Mental and physical despondency luring me into my silent darkness,

My eyes and mind slumber as tenebrosity welcomes me once again.

Repeatedly you disappear from our safehaven to return to a place

that is neither befitting nor your ultimate destination; Do you not know

you belong here, my mistress to the shades of night? The travelled

pathways of mankind you have wandered with another, moving through

life, tasting the fruit cut with his knife. Your providence is to be traversed

adeen that is your calling; it demands your heart empty handed. Your

voracious thirst for him has perished from whence it came, his seraphic

face only to be left swaying to the requiem of what could never be. My

body slowly sheds its skin unveiling my aesthetic rebirth. Salubriously

and autonomously, I rise once more to evanesce clandestinely into the

mysterious shadows of my hermitic underworld.

©  `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova