rife with darkness in the day

She has unleashed the torrent. She refuses to speak and the anger wells in her, a fire that burns giving toxic fumes that invade the mind (heart) and poison the heart (mind).
She has allowed herself to wander down a path, in the sky-less world there we make our bed and lie upon the couch of despair.
Our grief does not turn to dancing and our tears give no solace. The wind dries the sign but leaves scars and the insidious weight of by-gone and in the absence of the burden of holy regret our lives are without meaning and without hope.
Yes, here, I stand before a door. I do not have the courage to walk through the darkness so I terry on the threshold and burn the flesh and dig in the blade. Yes, I know that her betrayal will haunt me but I may find someway to turn away from the pain, from the suffering of knowing that she shares her body with another. But what can I say of that? The body must exult itself and give way to its desire to fill the empty space and the hopeless call to the dieing day.