Lamentations

The memories torment me Recollections of a different dawn. If History cannot be altered, Why, pray tell does it Haunt me so? If I am no longer the person she was, Why do I suffer still from sins washed since days gone by? I still see it when I close my eyes. Flashes of blood, shed over daisies long dead. In shallow slumber I see like a film Every moment I turned my sight away from that dazzling light. Why, still, can I not Gaze upon it? I reach back through squinted eyes, too accustomed to tenebrosity to view his virtuous visage, My hand, marred with markings, Mementos of the sins I carry, Feels dirty in comparison. Will it ever come clean? Will I be set ablaze if I dare reach towards it? Will I turn to ash? Or will I crumple and wither back to those sweet shadows, bathing instead in that Licentious Lust?