A poem from my past (close your eyes Amanda!)

Casablanca

Came to a screeching halt that year
At the edge of your rabbit hole.
No way I was going down there again.
I’ve grown accustomed to some sense of control.
I strayed for a moment that year,
stared down the abyss of your soul
At the familiar bones in your closet
which none but me had come to know.
I wanted to hold on to something that hurt
a sweet little souvenir of pain.
But no piece could be taken
without feeling the whole
And that monster in me
has been slain.