The scene abstract
a sort of cage, fractured pieces
held in by thinning glass
which creates this distorted view -
a package of secrets,
inside this old shadow box.
Its purpose is mysterious
keeping you from harms way,
while a March wind blows
cold and wet,
a reminder of her hold on
this world. A small glint of light
and I'm exposed I guess -
a little afraid, reluctant to abandon my armor
and show the mortal man I truly am.
But all the pieces fit inside,
this shadow box, dark and distant
which hangs by the bed we no longer share,
trapping what good there was -
until the fire of hate
consumed it again.