For Those I Have Yet Not to Forget

I wrote this poem about ten years ago. Hope you like it :-)

For Those I Have Yet Not to Forget

I lay awake in the dead of the night,
Nothing to do, to say , see or hear.
I have pitch darkness all around,
It's like I can feel the black,
Like I'm cloaked in black velvet.
Soft, smooth on the skin, to the touch,
A sigh of comfort, a feeling...
A feeling of indefiniteness.
And then, even though, I know I'm still by myself,
Alone, I can feel a hand slowly run over my back.
I am put into complete lust,
For the dark, my cloak of blackness,
My velvet, my love, my hate.
I despise it, but,
Yet, I long for it, to my heart's desire.
The night is a torture for something,
Something I can't have.
It's a tease of disorder,
For unkind hope.
A wish, a want, a need.
That if not fulfilled will cause trouble,
And triumphantly pain will overcome.
Depression will eventually cause a problem
Striking down anything,
That's anything that's left of self-confidence,
Of self-esteem, of self-gratitude.
But I'll try to lock this,
This indefinite feeling behind a door
With all the other bad times.