Something resembling a saber-toothed leviathan bust in my door.
Stitching a remembering in the flesh of my world.
Aching with its overbearing hunger to damage more,
Its tearing knives of sorrow dishearten and unfurl.
It does not menace a smile, nor a saddening simper, yet
It renders my body and soul weak enough to be torn by the wind.
It does not laugh or rejoice- It does not share its temper.
It renders my defense useless and my consciousness thin.
Wishing of a preoccupation in ignorance- live what’s sane.
To swing for a miracle from a distance- grow through pain.
It hollows my walls with one name: a lost love.
Bellowing all but a solution to what looms above.
Splintering my shins, defenestrating my pride,
Damaging all my being from far and wide.
As if it throws a wrench into a perfect stride,
It comes in waves to conquer and stay inside.