…were always toxic

Beneath an ancient sky in the shifting shadows of the night
a dark lake languishes in apathy
an long abandoned mirror still reflecting a beauty no longer seen
here in this desolate place the wind reveals our secrets
a cup of death drawn from its inky depths
a toxic elixir, a bitter taste, a fall from grace
an ancient curse reincarnated, old wounds reopening
as the past takes possession of our now lost souls
it drags us back into the corridors of oblivion
where the windows and doors are always closed against the light
where all our ghosts come back to life
rising restless and agitated as the poison seeps beneath our skin
the winding vines of our regrets whisper in hushed tones
bemoaning the loss of the blossoms and the withering of the leaves
like the venom of a deadly snake, you and I were always toxic
our wounds, once invisible
are now openly bleeding, filling our rivers of pain
I stand alone in this hollow night
and I know that the poison has done its job
and now, even love cannot heal our self-inflicted tragedy
© Ann Bagnall