Withering into the quiet,
I no longer keep track of the nights
I've merged into the dark
and we've become indistinguishable.
You drew stars around my scars,
scraping golden memories
across the dimness that covers me,
making me fall in love with agony.
Like weary patterns
like a single entity of endless blues.
I swallow my voice
and it consumes me.
As black gradually overhauls the sky
at the peak of sunset,
all the rage I tame
implicitly pulls me into silence.
I grasp my resentments,
those that wreak vengeance on my peace,
and they weigh me deep down to the bottom
where all I could see is you.
You flare, and I disappear in your presence.
First, the obvious: the title gives rise to a theme of the victim embracing the captor as in the Stockholm syndrom. You carry this theme through beautifully as you merge with the darkness and fall in love with agony. The cost is paid by swallowing your emotions, denying the honest expression of your innermost feelings. Inevitably the process consumes you, it wreaks vengeance on your peace sinking you down. In the end there is nothing of you left.