A prisoner's plea

Refusing to open my eyes, as pooling rivers would fall, I sit back in a cage of ghosts, retracing the corridors of my memory that once believed everything was real, but not at all I thought I knew, even just the ‘surface’ of you. But underneath those comforting waters was deep darkness I was never meant to swim. I revered in silence, worshiped your existence like the first light after a storm, a dawn I foolishly mistook for hope. Now your name is a bitter fruit I can’t spit out. It burns my insides like an everlasting coal I can't put out, a memory too sharp to hold, a scar too vivid to unsee. Locked in a chain of your sweet words– shame, couldn't break myself free I became the moth to the flame of you that never intended to stay, pretty sure this is the curse of loving wraiths, to be ruined, haunted by whispers of faes.