…dance with the devil

Don’t press me in your notebook as if I am a memory
for sometimes what happens in the dark will come back into light
between the shadows and the moonlight
lie all the secrets, all the hidden things
we keep unseen and silent
the past is endlessly whispering
circling the present with our unspoken truths
for love is tenacious
ever lingering in the depths of a broken mirror
a fleeting reflection, a dark dream of itself
that vanishes, over and over into the ethers of time
where the most silent of secrets
dance with the devil tethered to the axis of evil
while impending chaos is simmering in the darkness
even in the dark abyss countless flowers bloom
the dark blossoms of our pain
fragile yet beautiful, petal by petal, always just out of reach
floating freely in empty space
in a magnificent sky that once was ours
and like you and I, they are searching for a place to fall
but our pages are still being written in the tracings of night
pages of pleasure and pain, dripping black for loss, red for love
ultimately combining to form a deeper, darker shade
for you and I are one soul
and without each other we are never whole
the clock cannot rewind, there is not time enough
for our sorrow to forget itself
sometimes sins have sacred undertones
dangling by a single thread
that we reach for to fill our empty spaces
only to be covered by the ashes from a single burning spark
that in less than a moment leaves indelible marks upon our hearts
that forever remain as we slip deeper into the past
© Ann Bagnall