Another for To-Night; Untitled 2

I am a ghost in tennis shoes.
A marauder, masquerading with sweet, sick vigilance
A heroine left on the docks
Encased in salt from the seaspray
Staring out to the storms
A statue carved in waiting.

A statue supporting a falling man who is
a flickering lantern, flinching, now
only guiding fireflies
as opposed to battleships.

There is warmth in these vice gripping arms
That heart beat
Coming through this salted stone around me-

The voices, they are so thorough!
I pray they not whisper..
My own are dubious, certain, but to think--
I pray, I pray, I pray
I cannot move from the salt-tomb.
I cannot love this Hyde, clawing me.
It is with horror I find those dreams!
That sleep addled voice I fear is his-
I don't, don't, don't want to have overlooked--

A man falling
Is a different man.

A statue resolute, turns her head towards him.
This smile cannot wither
Or?
He will drown.

I cannot ease him from his worries.
Words flutter, flurry through fog
Like pretty, inarticulate, useless moths
My motions and gasps.
Quiet sighs and mumbles
Fumbling moans and arching--
He is vacant beside.
I resign to wrap around him.
A sign of life!
This frankenstein's folly, he smiles now!
There must be-- Am I too much?
Am I a weight? I feel heavy on him.
His shoulders ache enough, surely.
All these things and woes!
He is Hunchback'd, my darling
From a lord of lightning to a peasant of squalor, I've found him.
And try as i might, i cannot find him the heavens if he will not gaze starwards.
it is something I cannot part him from.

This frightens me.
Again, like tides!
I will it to banish itself
To let him straighten his spine
To awaken to senses
Touch, hearing, sight!
Oh, I am a selfish wanting thing, now.
So, we are still, it seems
While I pray for this storm to pass.