in the quiet
i can feel them
course
through my blood
demons
whispering
soft lullabies
i can hear
her voice
feel the crack
across
the supple
skin of innocence
in the quiet
i can feel them
writhe
around my brain stem
luxuriating
in subtle despairs
murmuring hatred
into the lost
waves of ego
supplicating id
until
the shame
that runs down
my burnt flesh
is no balm
but another
river of flame
navigated blindly

i take
jigsaw puzzles
back apart
before
inserting the final piece
because
i don’t understand
what it means
to be complete

but part of me
knows
completion
exists
in your embrace

in the quiet
i cling to you
and wait
for the storm
to pass