It came with a hollow crack--
a widening wedge--
the fearful peering
at Hope's Edge;

at the pittifulty small;
the fearful offering,
the tiny tiniest etch of a smile;
of the looking away
of the not wanting to see
or relate
to what was happening
when Love's Mote
threatens to push open

my Hope's creaky door
long closed;
isolated and remote;

but you in gauzy white
with a singe word
siren called
and my squirieled soul
peered out
from it's bitter cold
trembling
from too many alcohol-infused
tattered dreams
hunched over the checkered table cloth
Desperately Wondering
"How can this woman love me."

Worse;

I knew she did
and that served to coax
my wounded self to unwrap
its bandages in fear and loathing
against my own Terrified Will
which sought the light she was
but fearing fear and dread,
heard that voice which said
"Don't take the chance;
don't go"

"Opening that door"
the voice said
"might bring in her light
but too loose your own dark within."

The dark which shrouds my soul

is gnarled there, festering;

mad, wounded blood still seeping,

seething, terrified and terrifying

just inside that door

such that when it opens to her innocent light

it will launch out,

strike and punish something,

and someone for having been imprisoned there.

And I am the one who shackled it
to protect the World from I and it-
a shielding from those I love

from my own inner dark self;
I had imprisoned it there for years;

until you came.

You made me open the door a crack then

I knowing the dark one resides just inside

ready to leap from sudden crouch

would lash out to crush your light;

and then the crime would have been done.

Love would, by these lights lay face down;

inside the white chalk outline;

my dark shadow would be

loosed upon the cringing landscape;

nothing gained

a risk for love gone bad.

I cupped your face in my fearful hands

and quietly said,

lying

"I don't love you;"

saving her life

rather than risk

her soul

dying at my hands.