There is something in the darkness that knew my name
Knew how to whisper it right, and make my ears burn
Made me weary of the light,
Of flowers, of laughter
and the endless voices
that threatened to drown my own
It knew me - or so we thought
So I gave in, small helpings at first
Pinched, served and wrapped at the loins
an old man's snuff box - always within reach
until I could feel the wind pass through
where my soul should have been
a steady flapping of the curtain
on an open and forgotten window