Morphed like distorted light,

Dark like the fear of night,

With edges soft

Like a shirt worn oft

Or smudged pencil;

Soft and gray

Like a foggy day—

There,

But silent;

Lurking,

Creeping,

Holding on tight

With cold, clammy hands.

The only way

For the darkness

To stop clinging to you

Is for you

To start clinging to it.