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
