in this light room

i am the only dark thing,
not a victim, bound only by words
unspoken
threatening to capsize and ruin everything
to pour bodies into an ocean of intention and cold
Do you think the ships who fail carry their last words into the deep? Is that what weighs them down, beckons the hungry to feast? All of those phrases left to murmur in the murkiness of regret, only the eels will find them.

if i had a thousand ways to love you, i would be in debt still, because i have spent all of my words. i have been careless with them, thrown them at the streetlamps, given them to drunken comrades, i have abused them and left them aching in closets. Unfavored shoes. Precious things discarded like Hollywood youth. Ground through the machine in my soul and seeping through my skin to turn me dark.

there is light in this room, and i am the only dark thing. i cannot see to find the words i would use to bring you close.

they may not even exist.