Of Midnight

To expect my weak and common lies

For someone to talk me down

For someone to take and twist my knife

And bleed my dark intentions dry


Tell me about the hour clever thieves get away

When reckless bullets tragically stray

A bundle of suspicion crawls the floor

Tragic events seep from beneath these doors


It happens as no one’s up to care

Then, this veil of forgotten-ness begins to tear

The hours dwindle through a ruined light

Dazzled blues, the regretful hues of night



Filed under Art, Life, people, personal, poems, poetry

2 responses to “Of Midnight

  1. unbohemian

    that’s a beautiful piece of writing, I fell in love with it. Night is a wonderful cloak for everything: our passions, desires, emotions, and those dark thoughts we don’t care to share with anyone.

    It’s a beautifully written poem, full of meaning, amazing job…I only wish I could write like that.

  2. lucienlachance

    I’ve never lived in a city, though I’ve stayed in them for a few weeks. The noise drives me up the wall :) It’s always so quiet here, so the change is incredibly drastic, and I have restless nights when I sleep in cities. The sirens, the voices, it never ceases even at the latest hour.

    Brilliant poem, by the way.

    “For someone to take and twist my knife
    And bleed my dark intentions dry”

    It’s full of symbolism, but at the same time I can’t help but take it literally, which is a little frightening.

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