…of yearning

I have a hunger
to fill myself with emptiness
to soothe my pain and cover my scars
with the dark silken ink of yearning
when the weight of hollow
is too much to bear
the lingering embrace
of parchment and quill, smooth as silk
whispers softly to me
painting the withered parts of me
in colours you cannot see
and I am suddenly flowering
like a spring blossom
in the darkness of winter
or flying free like a bird
from a burning tree
but my hunger always finds me
between the darkness and the light
twisting the blade
carving your name upon the night
and I fall gently back
into the soft winds of yearning
© Ann Bagnall