Come in dear, come in, don't be shy, don't mind the mess. Make yourself at home, for my house as small as it may be, will always be your castle. It belongs to you, like all.
Just don't look, oh don't you look at the walls stained with old mischief. The bright colours, the paper, the little charms from an old place and far away worlds - all there to remind me of life and ward off evil spirits.
Don't mind the mess, you are free to let curious eyes wander. But please, love, please don't look in between the nightmares - there are memories of old times, of ancient episodes. My life was long. You might just see a thing or two that frightens you much more than evil dreams.
An old face - that is me.
A flag and fire - my ideals.
A sky and ruins - my old fortress.
A me that is not me. One you have never met (no need to, she sleeps sound).
But worst of all - a face that mocks you. One I can't cut out of photographs (for it's an old tale but hate I don't harbour and evil I don't wish upon it).
Look away, love, from those eyes. They are, indeed, not evil. But give me nightmares all the same.
YOU ARE READING
To you, I sing across the moon
PoetryOne day I sat down and spun a story to the stars above. Hoping they can keep a secret. But the moon, that traitor, turned around and told you everything I said. About you. And about this world. All my little idle thoughts grew roots and flesh. No...
