perhaps I left a little silver
sliver of white light, a slender
women in white wielding
a sword in that dark
place of muffled
black and choking

perhaps she is there still, 
fighting with the darkness 
trying to part the 
clinging black that 
had you choked and held

perhaps the silver sliver 
of cool ice, strong, smooth, 
bright is still working 
its way in to pierce 
to the root and 
splay it to the light

perhaps that small bright 
piece of me, a light in 
dark places when all 
other lights go out, 
is still with you today
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