in the blue embrace
of moth-winged midnight
promethazine dull hours
my starless milk-eyes
stare lovesick burn holes
into pale grey morgue walls
imagining your soft limbs
thread around me
like angel’s hair
your teeth leaving
sacred scripture
on my defenseless skin
your hands knife-writing
braille mad fairy tales
in the hollow of my throat;
your mouth opens
like a cathedral’s doorway —
i do not have
the key.
A 31-year-old amateur poet from Germany. Loves books, music, art in general, and her dog. Mostly writes about personal things and her decade-long battle with bipolar disorder and other mental health problems. Believes poetry and writing can be a potent antidepressants.
Comments are closed.
Dear Anna
I rated your poem 5 because i truly enjoyed it.I also would like to talk about it if you like and some stuff on poetry.
And at last im getting in touch with emerging poets like yourself and myself for works together regarding literature so if you are interested please contact me by:[email protected]