Strangely

She stepped from green blade to silver slice  
and caught her heart on cheapest lies  
with sachets of ashtrays and possibilities and frail remains  
spiced with shame of goodness and shame of dark.  
 
He cast his shadow upon her cries  
of worship and deepened understanding of price.
It costs to lose your heart in games  
of claims made in the incomplete dark.  
 
The sickness seeps in without flies  
picking away at boiled lice  
that ate at inner paranoid pain  
of stolen hopes lost in passive dark.  
 
Yet the darkness no longer lies
in wait, 
the fire has started again.