The allure of your darkness was swept across my sky with the frigid winds outside the pane.
Perhaps for no other reason than to remind me of my own.
Your consuming presence is heavy in the reality of your absence.
A keen awareness battles the anxious tremors as I realize it is all a product of myself.
Dark clouds I have painted in my own sky. A cloak for that I don't want to see. A reflection I may not recognize nor do I wish to confront.
What that may be is a mystery, even now.
A soothing relief, perhaps. For it was never really you. A mere metaphor and nothing more. A tool. A key to unlock another passage of my halls I've yet to travel.
If only I could build up the courage to open the door.