The Shadows We Keep

Evening descends as the sun takes its final form. A primal nature follows behind the moonlight. Little gods that whisper behind locked doors now slither beneath sheets. Ambitious spirits masquerading as harbingers of peace to ease the day's tension.

Their hands traverse the map of my skin. Supple fingertips trace patterns along the spine while pouring a warm glass of gin. I grip the dice and tell them “You will not win.” While they laugh and steep libations over ice saying “We have yet to begin.”

They climb on top as I sink into the ground. Each seductress stares, stirring tasteful entrances while provoking sound. My heart races as I reluctantly slip into madness once more. For my shadows know me best, and who am I to deny another pour?

Erotic muses make their rounds, spinning me through the void where we dance over fire pits along hallowed ground. We burn the wood of lost ships that have gone astray. Powerful vessels of will, now charred cinders for the furnace as seams begin to fray.

They plant kisses upon mouths to mute the tongue. Swirling, savoring the flavors of submission. My grip loosens as I can no longer pretend, that this game is not fun when you are waiting for the end.

Their blade in hand, now against my scalp, peeling back the layers of youth. I surrender this fight and let the blood run through my eyes, blinding me from this truth.

The truth, that the shadows we keep wander deep from within. Lying dormant until night falls and the crows return to ask.

“Shall we play again?”

- H. J. Levon