Oh, eternal night,
You are the spaces between light,
The half I could not see,
My living controversy,
Always beneath painting,
You in essence, lamenting.
A gentle caress,
Made our empty spaces last,
It was neither your hand nor whisper,
That made my heart whimper,
Sometimes simply your shoulder near mine,
Maybe when our fingers intertwine,
Or your kiss after we wake,
Or gratitude for when I bake,
Then again, it is every time,
You ponder of me woefully,
It is love beyond our years, you see,
You are everything and more to me,
Even though you maybe imaginary.
I can only imagine you when I am small,
I can only touch you when I fall,
I can only hear you when I do not breath,
You can only be when I weep.
Always, you wish for me to seek light,
Remind me of those who will make me forget this plight,
Yet your dark embrace is what I remember,
As in my heart it remains yours – cold, wintery and always December.