A little angry moon,
not too scarlet, not too pale;
is hovering over my roof
in the breathless night.
The company of soulless wind,
helps me no more,
the pain in my dreams is red
with a hint of charcoal;
it paints me every night
in the shades of venom.
So I seek the closeness
of tiny droplets of rain,
they're the exquisite
touch of numbness,
I crave before every
sleepless night.
The numbness fades slowly.
Now I count the stars,
at the edge of the dawn
and they count the birds
I have buried in my backyard.
-Z.K.
Follow my other account:
Zenabkhan98
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