KH (27.09.1983 / )

Phantoms

You rise and leave me
to sleep
in what you suppose
is a peaceful repose.

Undisturbed.
In denial.
To awake nonetheless.

Barely there,
an echo
on the edge
of hearing.

A cracked tile,
bitter bile.
Not what it seems.
No one needs to know.

The vivid memory
of rapid decline.
Flesh and bone,
broken and livid.

Though misfortune
seemed so demeaning
you maintained humanity with
a pale face
and white knuckles,
pride in a grimace through
gritted teeth.

Frustrated tears
deteriorate
with progressive years.

'Not yours to steal.'

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