Go, Hold Her

“Where are you,” she cries in her sleep, though pray she won’t to blurred stars lingering in the past Arms of little strength reach for weakening moments in dark rooms with plaster feelings The cold slips beneath doorways collecting at her feet, crippling thoughts in glazed over eyes As sorrowed breezes flicker flames of the candle she relights, burning at both ends A melted wax trance, hot on her fingers falls in shapes on a barren floor, question mark drippings For the answers, not found in any book no pages of solutions inked and numbered in reverse order exist and she says she can’t…she won’t fall, but she has and she will to her knees… Go…hold her