Falling Among the Wicked

The shadows of life linger here, competing for things unknown,

Silent and creeping—footsteps on wood; echoes driving me to the brink,

Reeling, unfeeling—words misunderstood; piercing deed into bone,

They urge me to do things, the sort I’ve thought of before,

Behind closed eyes and moment’s blinks, with hatred better left unsown,

“Where are you?” a woman calls, bright and cheery in the mid-noon,

I hear her soft steps along the planks, see a crawling silhouette upon the walls,

Beguiled, I part my lips and in a dragon’s breath, I call out to the outsider in my already filled hall,

“Here,” my voice rings, entirely unlike the norm, disturbed and hell-wrought with standing here alone,

Real as she was, I remain creeping in my space; until she shows herself with a bright swan’s grace,

“There you are,” she says, confused and delighted; rubbing the ring on her finger, utterly excited,

She is true and she is here, just like the voices that warm my cold, winter ears,

My midnight vibrations, whispering from places too far to deafen, yet too close to ignore,

I feel my fingers tighten without my cognition, and suddenly, there is blood at the door,

Warm and red, unlike the usual rain, the voices quiet and leave me with my dread, as I realize the horror I’ve just untamed,

I drop my crimson knife, it clatters to the ground; the kettle on the stove has the audacity to make a sound,

And she—she is still there, eyes wide open, mouth slammed shut, her legs poised to escape from an invisible clutch,

My beautiful wife, so quiet and sweet, made more so in the stillness of shocked disbelief,

And as I stare in morbid delight, I realize the smile across my lips and the living room lamp alight,

The voices begin again not soon after, showering me in praise and giddy laughter,

I hear them well, as I always have, but only now that I’ve heeded them, do I hear their claps,

Lovely and tinkling in this copper afternoon, something to believe in for a godless buffoon,

And as I sit and fall into baseless reminisce, the scent of iron surrounds me, as sweet as a morning kiss.


5 thoughts on “Falling Among the Wicked

  1. This was beautiful writing. I can connect in a way to this poem specifically. Keep writing well, you have a fan here.

    I love reading poetry but I’ve never really been great at writing it, nor is it my favorite to write anyways. I’m excited to read through the logs on here as I’ve been busy and haven’t kept up like I wanted to! Have a blessed day and a Merry Christmas!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’ve never actually been one for writing poetry either! I only started a few months ago actually, and I’m still trying to get the hang of making sure each line is relatively close in length to the others. Respect to all those that write it for a living. My brain is fried after just three lines. XD

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I never really got good at it. If you look farther back on my blog I posted one last week or the week before that I had written in the midst of the break up. I doubt it was the greatest and it was my first attempt.


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