…between the bevelled edges of the night

I am walking through the empty house of my heart
barefoot on the cold tiles
listening for the echoes of the unforgotten
the night is an ocean, vast and ever empty
and I am drowning in it
lost in the darkness, drenched in waves of longing
aching for the morning light
the sun through windows, brief relief from the shadows
fleeting moments, where I can still picture your face
I know that in time, this too, little by little
will quietly fade away like mist in soft carrying wind
the veils of sorrow are falling again, magnifying my misery
memories whisper softly to me, sighing like poetry
painting greyscale images
between the bevelled edges of the night
where you are always the shadow behind every door
upon every wall and in every corner of my soul
© Ann Bagnall