Thursday, May 16, 2013

Chronically Untouched

I killed it.  Or so I thought.
Scooped out
shovels full of dirt,
to carve a deep, dark space.
I buried it.

I moved on then,
free of shadows, radiant-
with just a tinge
of the graveyard grays.

I listened,
sought confidences -
reserved judgments.
They loved to talk,
to share momentous miscellany -
I listened.

But with listening came
a peculiar conceit,
of being anointed,
of being blessed
with lifetimes lived
in a single, vicarious 
vampire breath.

That radiance is now tainted.
The shadows have risen
from the deep, dark pit
where need
could never slumber.



1 comment:

  1. As one who chronically shares confidences and miscellany, I must say I loved this perspective -Yours.

    ReplyDelete