The Night Comes Crawling by John Tustin

The night comes crawling toward me

Baring fangs, snarling in secret


The night brings out sharpened fingers

The night cracks broken staircases


I sit alone in the one chair

My eyes burnt

My lips trembling


My body hurt

From misremembering


I can’t bring myself to retreat to the bed

Because that’s where I used to meet you


On the evenings

The fanged night

Could not penetrate the window


And here I am stuck

Between the loneliness

And the memories


That have shriveled blackened



In my diseased tiny





The night rides in

On wind

Lightning and rain


And she waits for me

To tell her

That you have died within my heart


She waits for me

To slay the night


She waits for me

To meet her

At the diner


Leaving you and the night

Back outside

The window


Where you both belong
Photo by brenoanp on

About the Poet:

John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. contains links to his published poetry online.

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