…of yearning
I have a hunger
to fill myself
with emptiness
to soothe my pain
and cover my scars
with the dark silken ink
of yearning
when the weight of hollow
is too much to bear
the lingering embrace
of parchment and quill
smooth as silk
whispers softly
painting
the withered parts of me
in colours you cannot see
and I am suddenly flowering
like a spring blossom
in the darkness of winter
or flying free
like a bird
from a burning tree
but my hunger
always finds me
between the darkness
and the light
twisting the blade
carving your name
upon the night
and I fall gently
back into the soft winds
of yearning
© Ann Bagnall
