Torment

It comes to me without bombast.
No fanfare, no loud scandal presages it.
Instead it is silent as a blade
Slipped between shadow and glint,
Between ribs to steal the breath
I want so badly with a sharpness
Only swift, desperate inhales have.

It comes in darkness,
Needing neither light
Nor silhouette, nor color,
Not even the silvered gleam of a knife
To cut the life from me.

It comes unbidden
Like a poison stinger,
A betrayal clothed
In my sweetest,
My softest, memories.

It comes in my sleep,
What little of it I get,
Wearing your face,
Speaking in your voice,
Touching me with your warm skin.

I am in that most sublime of places:
The hug of your chest and arms,
Between your chin and lap,
Curled up, face upturned,
Icy toes tucked between
My man's calves and thighs,
My smile all abandon and unwary love.

Then I come awake
Between midnight
And witching hour,
The coldest minutes
Ticking by as I grope about
A chilled mattress
Knowing before I open my eyes
That it has come again
Casually wearing my husband's body
Like the latest fashion
To remind me (as if it needed to)
That he is now ashes
And I
Remain.

Ye gods,
I remain
And the horror
Sinks in anew.