Her shadow

Because my hands can’t feel the image I see, I know
it’s only a shadow of her that has killed the spark and
carried the dark and dreary nights into my life.

I’m alone again and don’t like darkness that envelops
me when no one else is here. I see moon and stars
shining above and wish their light

would wash her shadow from my eyes and cleanse
my thoughts so I don’t keep wondering if she’ll
ever get here to dissolve the night that’s

covering my thoughts and soul in darkness. They sink
bit by bit into quicksand so thick they’ll soon be buried
and deprived of any light to show they exist.

Maybe I should believe I don’t see shadows surrounding me and
imagine another in my head instead of her, then sunlight, starlight,
and moonlight can penetrate the night and show me that,

she’s not needed to light up my life.

About The Author

DiBuduo is also the author of "Crime A Day," a nonfiction book, "A Penis Manologue: One Man's Response to the Vagina Monologues," and two volumes of his signature "flash-fiction poetry," as well as several collections of short stories. His short fiction and poetry also appear in anthologies, online journals, and recently, in Weekend Reads, a collection appropriately subtitled "Twisted Stories, Twisted Mind!" He has completed two paranormal novels, "Cryonic Man" and The Mountain Will Cover You.” and the soon to be released novel, “The Chicagoua Café,” and also a collaborative collection of connected fantasy stories with author Kate Robinson. Read more about DiBuduo and his interests at joedibuduo.com.

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