From the dark

The man is dark, mostly.
He lives, submerging himself in shadow,
already so confined in it.

He wanders the horizons of a restless mind,
whispering quick memories
into an ear that longs only for a word.

If there be one place in him that still holds light,
it is his eyes.
Every time I see his eyes,
I want to scream with grief.

Because seen there are what feels like
centuries of pain.
Abandonment, depression, hopelessness
all in a deep void
that sucks even the strongest of men.

He's been through it,
seen the other side,
perhaps even considers embracing it,
for it's all he knows.

His eyes pierce my soul,
his body radiant in essence,
his heart in all likeliness,
is fragrant, but torn.

His mind is tough
but ever an insomniac,
his soul is a duality
both illuminating and dark.

This man of shadow cannot be shadow for too much longer.

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