Beneath the Ashes

I kissed the abyss and it tasted like regret,

like old wounds that never stitched themselves shut,

like broken oaths and voices that drown in silence.

It whispered to me with a lover’s tongue,

promising warmth while pulling me deeper.

I traced my fears in the dark,

felt their shape against my skin,

a map of scars that never healed right.

Each breath was a confession—

each sigh, a surrender to the cold.

There is a madness in longing,

in the way we cling to what shatters us.

I buried my hope beneath my ribs,

let it rot there, turned to dust,

and breathed it out in a shudder.

You came to me, a flame in your eyes,

offering light but burning too hot to hold.

I wore your heat like a cloak,

until it scorched the truth from my bones.

And when I begged for mercy, you gave me fire.

Now, I am the ashes that haunt the wind,

the ghost of a flame that refused to die,

the echo of a heartbeat you can’t forget.

I am the shadow that remembers the light,

and the light that remembers the dark.

So come, trace your fingers along my ruin,

feel the tremor beneath the calm.

I am everything you fear and desire,

the ghost you can’t lay to rest.

Touch me, and I’ll pull you under—

into the dark where we are bound,

into the silence where we begin again.

© 2024 A.M. Roberts. All rights reserved.