Gliding softly in his dissolved attire,
Settling at foot of her bed.
His bloodless heart wrenched,
Watching her cry herself to sleep.
Admitting her hurt to be his doing,
Yet couldn't make a move to soothe her down.
Trapped in his own can of worms,
Acting on a curse he can't lift.
His loving caresses inflicted wounds.
If only he knew, if only;
A sincere word, a meaningful glance,
Was all healing potion she needed.
It was her strength to ache so hard,
Whilst numbness clouded his senses.
Weeping, bleeding, feeling agonizing pain,
Were far from his emotional range.
Buzzing silence pronounced his presence.
Puzzling odor fused in still air.
His ghostly proximity evoked her senses.
He was back yet again.
Not sure to stab or cure,
Or to kill with his silence over again?