I came to resent the night
For its mystery, its beauty, its perfect peace.
While I, carrying my turmoil like a bundle of my worldly goods,
Had none of those things
And never would.
But, in the ping of the raindrops and the screech of the wind,
I saw the night’s eyes blink
And realised she’d trade in a heartbeat,
Yet had no heartbeat to trade.
Two losers caught in a forced embrace:
The churlish night … and me.