Thy wrestled bones in slumber be,
For fortitude of decency.
My mind with vagueness I propose,
How me, so I love the rose.
Bent and broke her twisted thorns,
All alone my child be born,
Rested from a slumber of,
Her pedals of the truest love.
Bloom for me as the midnight moon,
Lights the shadows dark,
Twisted, turning in a world,
Of ether song and harp.
I love thy bed, or so to dream,
As I float into the purest waters stream.
-
Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 9th, 2025 06:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
Offline)
Comments1
This poem is eerie and somewhat dark yet feels peaceful and serene. A lovely write
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.