Fear Before It Sees Itself

Thread a memory from candlelight, 
night doesn’t end when I see you, 
evenings pretend they don't exist 
until you remember who you are,
mornings know you better than you
do, that’s why you sit in darkness.  

If molten words fell into my chest, 
I would empty every joy into you, 
but a closed window’s breath stops
memories from distilling our anger.  

Tears become evaporated reminders 
to rescue us from the forgetfulness 
we carry to survive the harshness 
devoted moments carve inside of us.

Time spells a nervous reaction 'til it
yields us into submission, in response 
I crawl into the tongue of a bell, wait 
for that moment that will wake us up,
but stillness gives everything I own
to a nothingness I desire to forget, but
can’t. I can’t because you’re not there 
to be forgotten. I can’t forget what isn’t
there, what isn’t mine, what isn’t meant 
to be forgotten because it doesn’t exist. 

Still night, no moon, a mirror speaks
to the nothing I desire to forget, alone
it spreads a wish to be a glimmer but 
I’m frightful of knowing myself avant 
a well-lit forest that sees transparent  
who I am before I do. That’s why I hurl
mud against the window, seem angry, but 
am not. I’m fear before it sees itself, 
mal-darkness craving for the ocean's
reflection before day breaks its heart.