…in the indigo

Our love was unheard and unseen, a creature of the darkness
a permanent resident of the night, where all our secrets and lies
played out like a Shakespearean tragedy
no audience to cheer or jeer
just the two of us, lost in each other
fully aware of the imminent danger
fully aware of the unspoken risks
unable to make a choice between love and utter despair
maintaining the middle ground
where we had each other in the moment
resigned to the inevitable separations we crafted our own universe
where the only light was gifted by the moon and the stars
and our longing for the sun would never be fulfilled
there were twilight moments
where the first and last glimpses of the light
shone kindly upon our dreams
but now on reflection I know
that only emphasised the ambiguity
and highlighted our state of obscurity
we both failed to recognise
that this was the beginning of the end
the slow, painful path into decline
where existing in this thin line
between the darkness and the light
in this twilight world of secrets and lies
was no longer enough, was never ever enough
we did not see the future, the incoming winds of change
yet we had already started drifting
our love never wavered, but our boat was sinking
so began the descent into darkness
a journey made in solitude
for no witnesses were needed, no records needed to be kept
for each step that lengthened the distance between us
in each second, each minute, each hour
the ‘we’ that we were was fading, unravelling in the indigo
now in the aftermath
I still find myself under the moon
still a creature of the night
where every whisper, every memory
is forever seared upon my soul
© Ann Bagnall