Through the darkest hour
on the darkest night
during the darkest week
of the darkest month
in the darkest year
lived I
for I loved you not.

In the blackest second
of the blackest minute
during the blackest hour
on the blackest night
through the blackest times
felt I
for your eyes locked with mine.

The battle was quick
for my two ran away
to the other side of
the darkest, blackest room.

And the relationship
parted at this death,
to exist in an alternate reality
in the late night
of your imaginings.
The pained, the guilty
each lives on, afterward.