And here we are again,
at the precise threshold where shadows congeal
and the night stills its breath.
There is no wonder left in our gaze:
we have been waiting for one another
since before memory.
Your summons asks no mercy.
It slips through me like a slow, devouring fever.
I resist,
yet my flesh knows you
long before my will dares to.
We were never torn apart
only bound by an unseen thread
drawn tight in the dark.
The moon stands full,
a pale and pitiless witness to our returns.
It exposes what I have buried
and delivers you to me
like a beautiful damnation.
Your blue eyes,
deep and perilous as midnight waters,
hold me without haste.
Within your smile sleeps a vow
that refuses the shape of words.
My heart slows,
as though it is yielding to fate.
The love I bear is not made of light.
It is gravity.
It drags me inward,
hollows me,
erases my names.
Every adjective shatters,
every word kneels.
I, who once mastered language,
stand silent before you.
Only the pull remains
the dark magnetism,
the forbidden attraction
throbbing beneath the skin.
You, legend wrought of night,
eternal wanderer of my shadows,
marked me without a touch,
wounded me where no armor exists.
I love you profoundly,
even as I attempt escape,
even as I lose myself to the abyss.
For whatever path I choose,
the night will always return me to you.
©Diana Mistera
