The stomach-turning pain
of my thoughts
is ever present
as I gulp down liquid courage
Sighing and drinking to the hour,
still not numb
Like a knife to my jugular,
I sense it on my doorstep
It’s waiting and weaving
a dark curse to chase me down
Regret,
If it could be a color,
it’d be black
with a hole in the center
where no colors can exist
When it finally comes for me
that hole will suck me in until morning.
[bctt tweet=”DARK POETRY – ‘Small Dark Matter’ by Nicole Heinz @NHeinz7 #darkpoetry #poetry” username=”theboldmom”]