when broken bodies
finally depart before
their rust-engulfed seats and tea,
who am i to ask
them to stay a dusk more?
when the dolls of strong porelain
finally rip their feign
and reveal their fragility in the storm,
who am i to ask
them to protect me from the angry rain?
when my sacred box
finally agapes
and reveals what i troubled to induratize
who am i to ask
anyone for help and escape?
when the night
finally falls with
death's blanket ready to sprawl,
who am i to ask
him to wait a dusk more?
- Author: Mya H. (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: August 27th, 2024 06:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 43
Comments1
So beautifully said in such gentle words. Poetic is all I can say
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.