The Glint of the Knife in Your Eye

To defy the devil of a soul that he once stole from you,

Sown into a wilderness of sympathy and discovery and bound so tightly upon your ageing, quivering limbs.

To be alone is to be a naked form in the face of desire, striding towards a being of single existence.

A lover taken before the jaws of marriage could seduce her, not by her mind but by her lack of heart.

One beat too many engulfed her innocence, leaving you paralysed by despair.

You said you could never love again and to this day you never have.

Suppressed dreams have fuelled the nightmares which throw themselves upon you, contorting your soul as the devils possession as you behold the glint of the knife in your eye.

A lonesome life has riddled your fear.

The glint in your eye brightens as each new second is discovered, and each old second is a distorted view of your remaining seconds of man.

So great the glare of your glinting eye, you drop, and with little more than a sigh,

Your eyes return to a glassy acceptance.