Dark moons and spilled blood.
Dreams of day in a land of eternal night.
A breath of light, of hope, like so many things forgotten, remembered only for an instant before once again it is lost forever.
My weak hand grasps yours in the dark, and suddenly all is well in this hell.
Our lips meet, and the light returns, brighter than these sinner's eyes can handle, used to things no brighter than a candle.
With a hug and a sweet whisper, this frozen cell starts to shatter.
YOU ARE READING
My Sleepless Scribblings
PuisiMy poetry scrapbook, pretty much. I'm planning on putting all of my stuff in here, from way back when(2015), to now. at least the stuff that's worth a damn, and that I feel like sharing. I'll update it whenever I feel like it, and if I get mostly ne...
