Gray mists settle about his shoulders,
and he visibly shivers at the touch
of the smoke-like tendrils
tap, tap, tapping him softly,
seeking to be recognized for what it is,
his long lost friend, one he knows too well,
that all-consuming darkness
longing to wrap him completely
in its obsidian embrace.
He opens his mouth to speak
telling it to leave him be,
but the tendrils force themselves
into his mouth and down his throat.
Swallowing the darkness,
he can feel the parasitic nature
of its essence merging with his own
until the two have become one…
they are inseparable.
So, succumbing to the darkness,
he begins to withdraw inward.
His fortress of solitude is internal,
airtight, the castle walls built
by the meticulous hands of a master
intent on containing the beast
hidden in the dungeons of its core,
telling himself he is protecting
both himself and others.
He keeps pretty things on a fence
where they can catch a glimpse
of him from behind barred windows.
He’s nothing more than a dark form
offering an occasional glimpse,
his soul bared, open to them
whenever the drawbridge is down.
Only to find it shut tight
when attempting to enter.
He succumbs to the darkness within
allowing it to permeate his core
and surrenders to the obsidian embrace
that soothes the beast within him
like the sound of a sweet melody
sung just for him.
© AC Elliott
-Written sometime early 2018 and edited/posted on 9-May-18.