Ode To A Migraine

You start
with my neck,
turning tendons into tangled iron bars.

You move
next
slowly
up,
slipping a shadow cap of pain
on my skull.

You creep
towards my temple,
signaling your arrival
with spot flashes of stars,
bright against the white walls.

You mock
the light I love,
driving me into a darkness
that still won’t quiet the
throb.

You linger
as an unwanted guest,
your departure date
a well-kept secret.

You will
go,
and I will be left with a
faded reflection of the ache
you so generously bestowed.

I will
not miss you when you’re gone.