Troglodyte Poem by cahen thrips

I have yet to come out of my cave:
to feel fresh air ruffling hair;
screwing my eyes against light.

Thoughts are no more than a metre
or two beneath the ground yet truth
must stay hidden and out of sight.

And while my skin is bleached
for lack of sun a dark-age of time
stains me with what I've missed.

This solitude, this withoutness,
is not what I'd intended when
I answered your call to make a wish.

I wished you were here by my side
or at least not where you now sleep
so I could love until my final breath.

What years of happiness have we
lost when you squandered your heart,
seduced by the beckoning angel of death?

So I endure in this semblance of night
to live what's left as a solitary troglodyte.

April 2023