so here you are, night.
i asked for you in anger;
i cursed your name, called you God damned.
i thought that i could shoot your blackness in the veins,
to seize the pain in the soul.
in my selfishness i forgot,
i forgot that the sorrow’s spoon is too big
to boil you down.
oh soothing night,
how your wicked hands do prick me
with the needles of our thoughts,
so dirty and despondent.
i beg, i kneel and writhe away,
but he cannot hear
an atheist to our sleepy weakling
of a love.
whispers and tiredness
travels through us
you are here my dreary night
our grave our hole our life.
This was a fascinating read! Love the imagery and concept. 🙂
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thanks, Sonya. I’ve been able to grow up throughout the city and while there are so many awesome things there are the ones that cause one to think, be grateful for and at times, hurt a little. thanks for taking your time out to read 🙂
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I liked this a lot!
My favorite lines are “i beg, i kneel and writhe away, / but he cannot hear / an atheist to our sleepy weakling / of a love.”
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Thank you friend 😊
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No problem!
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Amazing, as usual mb! Your work speaks volumes and you have a wonderful unique style.
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Thanks so much Eugenia 🧡✌
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My pleasure! 😉
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“ oh soothing night,
how your wicked hands do prick me
with the needles of our thoughts,”
Love this part!
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I agree my favorite too lots of meaning for me during that time of my life. Thanks for reading friend xo
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Your welcome!
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Really enjoyed this, a powerful piece that really speaks with the voice of desperation that you can feel in the dark corners of a city.
Thanks for stopping by the Go Dog Go Cafe today!
S Francis
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Thanks for reading and visiting friend xo I appreciate it 😊
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you are very welcome!
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Oh, there are times what we ask for don’t arrive with what we need. The tenseness, the anger, in this…I’ve felt it with my dance with night.
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Amen, friend thanks so much for sharing happy 2020
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