The Crevasse

hanging near the end of my rope
in this dark place
an unseen crack in the world
heart-numbingly cold
fingers
and hands
and arms
and every muscle
aching with the effort to hold on
fatigued with the
cold
unfeeling
loneliness
that wraps it's fingers of ice
around my battered
unwanted
abandoned
dying heart
looking down into the consuming blackness
that promises to end the pain that hope brings
no whisper
of a ghost
of a vision
of rescue
to desperately grasp
and hold on for