your unspoken nightmares 

flashes of dark silhouettes,

whispers that send eerie shivers

down your spine

like

a tingling touch

that refuses to forget.

your cries of pain,

desperate pleas that sound like

the lyrics to a song of heartbreak

silently,

i stand by the door 

helpless like a child watching

someone it loves 

be ripped apart 

by a demon it cannot see.

the clock strikes eleven, 

moonlight illuminating the tears 

that trickle down your barren cheeks

like glimmering pearls 

caught from underneath the ocean waves;

they fall from your skin,

disappearing like delicate crystals 

into the twilight shadows

they call you a pretty crier,

but if only they knew.

the melodies you hear are far from a thing of beauty,

instead more twisted,

like vines strangling a rose,

painting the night

with a memory of unforgiving clarity

and it is then,

when you feel the most at war

with this second half of yourself

still left behind in the past,

that i wonder

if i will ever be able to save you 

from the voices that echo in your head every night

like ghosts that have found a home 

to haunt.