You occupy me—
the way the
moon light
occupies the
dark.
You are the
sunburn on
my soul,
precluding
another's touch.
You are the
mystery
of the maze;
filled with tar-pits
at every turn.
You are the
unwritten letter—
the lie in
the story of
love.
You are the
beauty of
imagination,
a conflagration
of emotion.
You are an
alchemist–
every year on
Halloween.
You were the
beginning,
the end,
and the
liminal space
between.
between.
-
Author:
– NoeticNonsense (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 27th, 2026 22:18
- Category: Love
- Views: 2
- Users favorite of this poem: freyaaa
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