Letters to the Dead: Five

In the darkest hours,
I hate you.
For everything

I left unsaid
between us;
for every time

you held my hand,
smiled for me alone,
swore you'd always be

my friend
in the darkest hours.
I hate you.

For your silence,
your ghostly touch...
your death.

My tears burn
like acid, like anger,
and I

bathe my soul in shadows,
washing myself away
in the darkest hours.

(c) March 19, 2005 Lucidscreamer