A Cold Dusk

Without further ado…

It burns,

coldly,

in the evening sun;

that sun I sought to share with you.

I feel its coarse whiskers there-abound,

scratching against my eyes and cheeks.

I wish at once for something softer.

Should my torture then not be complete,

I am reminded at the thought of it,

that blasted, evil thing

that I took no small part in.

I am alone in my own way,

brought to my knees to beg again for a self I once knew,

afraid of what I’ve become anew.

Tending then to my own desire,

I have shorn away my flame and fire,

blown out and lost atop a sunken pyre.

Lost as I am in the lying desert,

I seek to drown myself in lying dust

as my soul has taken to the coldest dusk.