Failing Beam

Under the bed, a dark maw.

I needed light, just a bit.

Grabbed the old torch, with some awe,

then pressed the button, and it

flickered, yellow, like a sick cat's eye.

A weak pulse. It fought to stay.

Tried to push the gloom away,

but the bulb seemed to sigh.

Then it went. A thin, final hum.

The shapes distorted,

alien and dumb.

Like a promise, aborted.

Just the black again.

And the cold, hard floor.

No earring. Just the pain.

Of wanting something more.