Darkest Corner Of My Room Poem by David Pettus

Sitting in the darkest corner of my room
A thought would slowly fade to glow in pulse of dying bloom
As in here of then of where was as a lingering caught between a stare
Hinders the ever soft suspicion, To caress the bare aware.
Still as silence not twice would grow
Slowest breaths would weave in darkness
As contrast around me it would sow
I would ponder
Was my own night just a playground for eavesdrop of shadow?
I would wonder
For hours I would sit
In chess not to move to whats to follow
The mind dropped each time a little with its burdens buried deep
The heart, The hollow tomb
An empty sleep
There was no ticking of clock to pass the time

And here once again inside
I sit in the first lightest hours,
In the darkest corner of my room.