The nights, cold and lonely,
Pressing hard upon me
Soaking their cold fingers
Into my once warm skin
Without you
Half my world
has turned dark
Drenching my bones with ice cold water,
Darkening my spirit
Grasping for my soul
To steal for their own.
If only...
Hoping...
The morning is warm
Waiting for the morning to come back
I like this poem.
ReplyDeletenight,,,
The night is a new medium, marking the beginning.
i think darkness is the force of creation.
Good posts. Thank :)