The Night

This was my very first poem - realized that I've never put it up on the blog, so here it is.
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The Night

The night is the worst,
when the distractions of the day,
like shadows, passing, fade and give way
to the stirrings of this heart,
which once felt love so.

Like a tempest I break,
No warning call, no final crow,
but down my crafted dam falls
to flood my senses in its wake.

What's left there for this,
this heart which spoke of love so dear,
but now is left to dust and ash?
for ash is all it was built upon, and
dust becomes its only worth.

How foolish in my erring ways,
to think I knew that frightful draught,
of which I drank so haughtily,
only now do I see,
the poison it hath bred in me.

And after these, my sleepless nights,
shall I truly bear its punishing might?
That which had risen me to thunderous heights,
the love I chose to live and bear,
is now my deepest despair.