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Escape

“We're all escapists here,”
said the page, who guided me in.
“We're all looking for our way out.”
The words flowed like water,
and I, content to float upon them,
was loathe to break their current.

“Have you ever killed a darling?”
she asked.

What an odd question, I thought,
and told her as much.

“It's something you'll learn.
Your darlings will kill you with
their need if you let them hang on
for too long. It's a sad business . . .
Sometimes there are tears.”

I wondered if there was
wisdom or madness in her words,
but found I didn't care.
I began to cry, mourning
my own indifference.

“Come my darling,” she said,
offering her hand.
“We're all escapists here.”

I took the offered hand.

“Help me find my way,”
I said. “Help me escape.”