Night has fallen
A ball of silver hangs low in a carbon sky that begs to be shared
It is the passing of hope that is difficult to bear
It was always there – a shadow – a vague promise
It is gone now
But the addiction remains
Not to Him
No longer to Him
But to the feel of the floor on my bare knees
A touch on my shoulder
Breath in my ear
A dark room lit by silver whispers
The flow of feeling that cannot be described
In sleep the cravings are divinely met
Sometimes – not all the time
In the harshness of my daylight reality
There is only the addiction – the constant craving …