It Lay Within Me, Scarce Alive Poem by moon batchelder

it lay within me, scarce alive,
my heart - my love - my curse.
and like a small child frightened by the night,
beneath the blanket shivering,
afraid to feel the hurt.
still smarting from the forfeit of delight.

it lay within me, turned to stone;
a statue of the night.
or like a pearl from someone's treasure lost.
my heart, grown chill as autumn morn
had hid itself from sight;
like as a wound is hidden by the gauze.