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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2010137
Just a poem I wrote off the cuff .
ll alone the curtains drawn , the night is near the sky not clear,

The darkest thoughts run through the mind , the lighter thoughts seem less than kind,

I think of the boy who fell behind , his silent breath shivers down my spine .

There is no robin red breast here , no autumn wind , or Christmas cheer ,

I heard a ghost not far from here singing songs of fathers fear .

A glass in hand so warped and sick , the little child buried in the pit..

Across the room a woman smiles , her empty eyes so sad and wild .

I want to take her to my nest , to touch her body and feel her breath .

She seems so beaten so sad and willing , so ready for her ill fated end .

So transparent the little girl inside , drowned out by the torture of broken dreams , and lustful spite .

I felt her lust and shaky touch as she looks right through my weary eyes ..

In the moment, i find peace two empty souls who dared to meet.

Yet no rejoice no jaded tears , just jilted ghosts who new the fear .

It could be heaven or the hell , perhaps just a shabby old room in mans hotel .

So up in smoke went all the ghosts , to beyond , to where ghosts go , to whirl alone in Dantes cave , with the memories of torture , lust and pain .
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