Guilt

Stalking sultry in sleepy shades of silent shadows,

 guilt awaits one wearied weakness moment 

when her startled victim fails to think,

 then she swiftly, slowly sinks 

 to pounce unsuspected, upon them, 

once again. 

 Assuming her most apt and agile position,

 she soak-drops deeper into pain-thickened skin. 

striking at the tenderest, truest of heart, 

she tears savagely at each soft, inner part 

 until a ravaging, raging struggle begins. 

 Nagging consistently at each startled, stricken conscious,

 she denies sweetness of a sane moment's rest, 

until desperation has no choice

 but to raise its wounded voice

 and scream what one thinks may be best. 

 Laughing at each faintest feeble apology,

 she chuckles as truth chokes on lie's foolish words. 

Knowing remorse feels regretfully rotten,

 when all hope's gone, long forgotten, 

 she retires, relaxes, then rests fully assured 

 that she may lose ground on one's insincere apology

 while looking on as a nagged conscience feels better. 

 But in the deepest depths of each mistaken folly

 she stalks patiently, yet stealthily follows 

 until one forgets her and returns to one's error. 

 ~P.S. Colley~

c. 2012