EXISTENCE

   Spirited away, you were taken from me,
for less than three days. Yet time whispered
it's breath of delayed blood and my own invented
dread.

   I scowl at the feeling, bringing it close to
an impossibility. I remark the words handed
tonight, "Where are you, my Love?"

I shudder in despair, trembling with fright,
vomiting in disgust, from a lonesome presence
and my own pitiful existence.

   Facing the night too late, waking to find
that another day is slain. I find it hard to bleed,
when the world and my enemies have taken all
they need.

   I condemn all this empty space, these
swollen hands that should be stronger so time
could not take you away, arms that should be around
you, instead of the desert's days.

I slip from my distraction, choke on my disbelief,
on how quickly my life can easily slip from me,
and destroy my existence.