Poison Pen Letters (3)
We live each day in the shadow of death. When the light goes there
remains the totality of which we were once part, mute testimony to our
passing.
The fear of death is silent company while beyond my eyes I see the
shadows at the door. Measured time weighs like eternity as fate
inexorable holds the shortest straw.
This pain I wear like a second skin, a silken shroud that smothers
from within. The unknown lurks behind a hidden past, a me that was
now fading fast.