Windows broke over the storm,
The swords and bombs fell, and the whole room was calm.
The stormy bridges and the blood with my crown are insults to my wounds.
The home with a muse, the simple glasses on a wooden table,
I put my head on your cozy sweater, seeing lands with seas without a cradle.
The signs you heard and saw, you ran to my location as wind.
I'll take the whole five minutes, and I'll walk from the door,
I'll commit a crime for my grace, I'll damn my soul If I lay on the same floor.
My body knotted with an exile, but I'll run and etch scars in my barren hands,
I'll fight and defend our homelands.
I can see you standing in the middle of the ripple of my bridge.
YOU ARE READING
Beyond The Glass
PoetryBeyond the Glass is a poetic storytelling about two people who find each other and promise to stay together until the door closes, but the walls between them are large. The poems are written from the woman's point of view. They capture her raw hone...
