Bleed into the sky,
Says the lady of the night.
Draped with shrouds of white, pristine.
Graceful and kind with her words to the moon aloft skies
As it shines dimly in its demise.
Shine bright, my darling;
Beckons the poisonberry.
Her death white face wrinkling and wilting from sadness.
The moon says, I have naught left to give.
Oh, beautiful friend of mine,
I am nothing but a lump before these muddle of murky clouds.
They steam away from the concrete and swirl between us, love.
I have not the ability to default their move.
The rain will carry me away soon, said the night-scented cestrum, woeful of the partition soon to come.
The moon screamed in grief as clouds covered the sky and rain began to cover the abyss
Soon to discern the loss of his friend.
YOU ARE READING
A Small Collection Of Poems
PoesíaA majority of these are very random, read at your own risk. I'm not a big poet but if you do dare to read these, I recommend you to not read the older ones that I've meticulously placed at the end. They are horrible but the brain that I stole from s...
