MY DArK PLACe

irony is being stuck in your customized, personal hell, triggered by memories which send you into

free fall

bile at the base of your stomach as a silent scream escapes your throat.

that dark place no one can pull you out of

with the exception of your tormentor, who alone can be your savior

but they chafe at the reminder of the transgressions they wish to bury

hoping you forget they ever happened

your cry for help sends them into tailspin until they, too, are stuck in their own personal, customized hell

incapacitated 

from climbing into yours to save you.

so you both suffer, alone

and in silence.