seconds, minutes, hours.

cold, blank, silent; i try not to falter in front of you. how much things have changed.

i want you to know what's going on in my mind. i want you to see how i'm breaking into pieces inside. but i can't let you through, because i don't want to need you again. despite what i said, you have become like everyone else, stuck behind the dam that prevents me from pouring out my soul.

i can't physically speak. i flick through the usual excuses, realise that they have no effect on your merciless attacks, and just say nothing. bile in my throat, the barricade rises, stopping the flow of words. the flow of tears.

it takes weeks, months, years to build up trust.
only seconds, minutes, hours to knock it down.

cutlery draw.

a second of time stops
a gasp escapes
blood spills
bile rises, tears sting
of all the knives to choose from
you know
without knowing
which blades are sharpest
to penetrate my
unsuspecting flesh

backing away
arms reeling
hiding from the pain
nobody has noticed
the intensity of your intimacy
or my cloak of cold humiliation

lock bolted
body slammed against
smooth, wet tile
liquid luck transforming into
preying shadows
cowering, shivering, clutching
my wretched soul
beg for mercy
please
don't let that agony
drag me into bitter darkness again.

sleep.

i exchanged last pleasantries and bid quick fair-wells
close the door hastily
i sigh of relief escapes as the wood clicks into place
eager to finish the day.

shredding material as i clambered over
books, bags, forms, papers
earlier discarded on the carpet floor
it might swallow them one day,
i assure myself.

curtains drawn in one swift flick
hiding the light
darkness consumes me
finally, i am exposed.

sliding beneath the warmth
soft skin-to-blue contact
in seconds, i am calm
overwhelmed in tranquillity.

needing to be saved
chest, shoulders, head immersed
knees tucked into body
arms wrapped tightly
foetal; barely human
am i at an end, or
a beginning?

eventually, stillness prevails
thoughts cease, a peaceful
answer dropped like blanket
over my mind

rest has come.

i had an impulse to post this.
it made me stop and think about that brief
moment in time each day
my favourite part.
our minds stop talking to us
and we just
see, feel, believe.

you, the spider.

gazing at your work of art:
a spider's web, beautiful,
glistening in the silver light of the subtle lampost, standing alone in a dark street,
so alike the moon rays that we flourish beneath,
almost hidden in the mist.

like a fly, a fool, i've stumbled blindly into your trap again.

doomed i may be, still i admire your perfect creation,
tangled in the threads of your dangerous affection.