Inky black,
I’m sucked back
down to
her darkest depths
Like an octopus
her story wraps me
in its tentacles
A stranglehold
on stories told
and the ink
she has spread across
the page I
can’t see through

I think I’m drowning
It’s sticky black
and I should come up
for air
even though
my mouth
is open
to suck grace in –
nothing fills my lungs
even though
my eyes are open
there is nothing –
nothing but darkness
inky blackness
the colour of
the story told
with the pain of
being buried
alive

© Kait King, 2015