It beckons to me,
calling out to my soul,
dragging my heart
by its love-clogged arteries
into the depths of the unfamiliar,
forcing me to
enter the unknown.
I've avoided this gateway
for so long,
terrified by the blinding blackness,
leaving me in the shadows
I have been trained to fear,
as I always come out
with something missing,
and more often than not
a hole in my chest
where it once had settled,
nestled comfortably in my bosom,
ever contented to
proclaim my passion.
But, alas,
it has already been stolen
out from under my nose,
and now I must delve into
the dank darkness
to retrieve my heart,
damaged and disheveled as it is;
you only get one after all.
I can only hope
that I won't find it
broken and bleeding
beyond my reach,
spilling my life,
feeding the dusk.
For if a man dies
in his own desolation,
does he make a sound
or cease silently
with only the silence
to keep him company?
"If I look back, I am lost."
-Daenerys Targaryen
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