Drapes

What do you do when the curtains fall heavy against your window -

Thick, impenetrable -

Blocking any slant of light.

Hiding all things blue or green or grey or tired brown from view.

What do you do when the folds of fabric are so heavy it takes a tectonic push for them to move,

And when they do another set of dusty weighty things hang there,

Blocking out the sun and stars and moon.

For every drape you force aside

Another cloth hangs darkly.

You can't be faulted for letting those layers fall back into place.

You have to rest your aching self,

Recede into the comfortable blackness.

You are so tired.

You miss the sky, the stars, the trees, the light...

Your soul aches.

Soon you tire of missing those things, and the faint glow around you dims

As more curtains fall -

As you fall -

Into darkeness.