By: Linda M Crate

i had a dream where you walked into the darkness
forsake every goodness and the light
you tried so hard to cling to,
and when i tried to grasp your arm and lead you
back into the light
you cut me with icicles colder than winter;
i tried to warn you
that the path you took now would only lead you to
destruction,
but perhaps that’s something you must
learn for yourself—
i only wanted to save you from yourself because i could
feel the cracks in your lantern
as your once white fur became blacker and blacker,
but perhaps it your true desire to follow
only your impulses of your design
forget all the goodness and purity of heaven to burn in the
edifying flames after your death
so you can feel something
other than numb nostalgia and indifference;
so you can know that sincerity shouldn’t be false and that a
woman doesn’t need a charming man if he will
be untrue—
perhaps you’re the story seldom told
the man who cares not for the fate of gods and men
one that forges his own path to find that he is with neither simply
dancing with monsters,
but i don’t think you’d mind you bit me pretty hard
with the fangs of your deceit.