What’s done in the dark

She gathers up her clothes, half afraid to look at him
Sticky with sweat, with him
The sweet agony of seconds back forgotten,
In it’s place; shame and misery.
He grunts, sighs and turns dreaming perhaps of someone else,
She sneaks past leaving behind a candle
Glowing unceremoniously in the dark.
Alone. Cold.


He jabs his arm, swears loudly, tries again
In a corner lying forgotten, his crooked spoon
Black from over use.
He finds the vein, swears then groans; part pain, part pleasure
The needle joins the spoon on the floor
He rises, soaring high, leaving behind a candle
Brilliant flame, burning bright and true
Penetrating the darkness.


I lie in my bed
Warm, snug, fed
Looking at the moon through my window
Haunted by memories that linger
Praying for relief, the comfort of forgetfulness
Neither comes.
On my wall
Shadows of roaring flames
Burning, burning
Reaching higher and higher
I shut my eyes tightly and fall into a troubled sleep.


At dawn we all rise,
Her, Him, Me
Last night’s fires seemingly gone,
Covered by cheery smiles that belie our guilt……
Inside, the flames rage on
Burning high and fierce
Smoking, staining us with soot on the inside
We are all slaves.

Then night comes again.