Grief

In the dead of night

In the freezing cold

Her skin burns hot

The searing fire melts through layers of masks

Until her skin is no longer as thick as a candle

But as thin as a singed, fragile wick

No longer a daughter, a friend, a lover

No longer content, guilty, numb

She is naked of all labels and inhibitions.

She cries out for help,

For something, for someone

And is answered with silence as loud as her screams.

Naked and vulnerable,

Burned to a wick

Grief approaches.

Risen from the darkest corner of the room,

Grief stalks up to her bed

And answers her call.

Her body is paralyzed

Unable to move

Unable to cry

Grief intrudes her mind, her body, her soul

Demanding she feels his pain

Keeping her as his captive

She is his for as long as he wants

Sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours

Until he decides to relinquish his power.

As abruptly as he came, Grief leaves her

She aches from his resonating touch

And begins to move her stiff body

She reaches for a new set of masks

Glues them to her aching face

And is numb to the world once again.