This is me saying goodbye.

Though we have been close, I will not miss you.

Though you have been my faithful and constant companion,

I will not look back one last time

to look upon your face for remembrance.

The scars inflicted upon my soul are remembrance enough.

You were once a dear friend to me.

I gave you my all, and you took it all.

You convinced me that I needed you,

that I was nothing without you.

You gave me strength that I depended on.

You hid me well and kept me safe,

and in your shelter I took refuge.

You taught me well to be empty and without feeling.

Your anesthesia numbed me to the pain.

You sung me to sleep with your lullabies

so that I did not wake to face the day,

nor did I feel the warmth of sun on my face,

but only the cold light of a vacant moon.

How well you cared for me and nursed my wounds.

How well you seared my conscience and darkened my mind.

How well you draped me with this melancholy.

Little did I know that it was my burial shroud.

And as I slipped from life into death,

little did I know that it was you killing me.

I trusted you as I laid my life heavily in your hands.

Little did I know that you were bleeding me.

I didn’t feel the cuts you were making.

I couldn’t feel my life slipping away until it was too late.

As I breathed my last, I saw you standing over me,

a victorious smile etched across your pale face.

This was your plan all along.

But little did you know that I would have life after death

and that I would awaken from my slumber.

Though you have come again to embrace me,

and still my heart longs for you,

I am dead to you.

No longer do I belong to you,

nor are you mine to hold.

I will be rid of you,

with this light once more kindled in me,

that fiery flame you once snuffed out.

Yes, it burns again,

though your black waters drowned and doused it.

Now I am in the light of the sun

and under the blue of the sky.

No more will your night be my protection,

nor will your dimness give blinded sight to my eyes.

Oh, death, where is your victory?

Out of your dark clutches I have been reborn.

No longer does your breath fill my lungs,

but that of another.

And now your poison is being siphoned from my marrow.

With transfusion am I given the blood of someone else.

So I will live on with a new narrative

written in the pages of a book not of your hand.

Your companionship will be forgotten

as I take upon my lips the name of life.

I am marked, but not by you.

These scars will be redeemed.

So now, Darkness, farewell.