ides of augustus : VI
MELANCHOLIA
He held my hand as I fell
Held on tight
I tumbled past my childhood
Into my deepest chasm of self-loathing
The sword stayed in its sheath, alone on the altar
The bloody color spilled like chalk onto the floor
If I'd been alone that would have been me
He was calm as I screamed
Calm as death
I stepped away from the light
Into the darkest night I've yet encountered
There was no mercy in that tight grip
It anchored me to the circle
Until I simply vanished
ides of augustus : for ka