Blackness Magic

My nighttime routine

I am promised love.
I am promised wealth and eternity.
I am promised leniency, effort,
I am promised promise.

But when the blackness pours through my window and floods my bed,
and my heart's contentment grows and scratches at annoyance,
the shine and glimmer of those promises lose their luster
in swap for a film of basic and bland.

I can no longer breathe.

I close my eyes, knees to chest,
trying to ignore the blackness magic.
I look back and wave to my former self of two minutes ago.
"See you soon," we say together.
She becomes smaller, her head shakes become less of a warning.
The flood has reached the ceiling
and for the next however long,
I am yours again..

Reviews

[terry smith]

the night owl can see through the dark...into the flame started by just a spark...nice poem Jacqueline!! :)

[Winslow Des Totes]

Wow. The imagery here is amazing and the personification of the darkness is spectacular as well as eerie and terrifying! Great write had me enraptured the entire read!

[TTBoy28]

At bedtime, we die to see a new day. To be, to have...what is promised us, we should take advantage of all of it during the day. Nicely done, Jacqueline!