I am the color of snow
If snow could tan only slightly.
I melt like snow,
I dissolve into puddles and pitfalls,
And no one knows where to find me
On the dark days.
I wake like a candle,
Slow, flickering, wavering.
I burn like a candle,
Bright only in the darkest of times,
I wallow in my self pity,
I adore my deepest pain,
And no one needs me quite like they used to.
I sing when no one can see me,
And dance when none will hear me.
I find my greatest attributes in the loneliest parts of me -
The starving artist well fed by fear of living a full life,
Fear of feeling loved and being loved
And being alone
All at once.
I am the texture of the dark
When the sun and the moon
Elope on the sidelines
Somewhere else in the universe,
The time of day when the sky is empty,
And the time of day
When stars lose all meaning
And no one really cares who is awake
Because it is only me.
I am the creak of a house
That is empty and always has been.
I am the big empty house
Where no man or woman or child dwells,
Only spiders, only spirits.
Only me.
