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midnight and,
far from my town's bright light
in darkness of sky i find solace
in darkness of sky i seek freedom
i look at the glittery trail of stars
the satellites moving as if stars are racing
the Pleiades looking like a small ursa major
i lay my head on the grass
before fog comes to obscure my view
before its grayness takes all over me
i look at the stars, spot constellations
wishing if i could fly through them
wishing if i could go and visit a planet
wishing if a planet that can carry the weight
the weight of my emotions,
the weight that pulls me down on the ground
there's a freedom in the night sky
meant for dreamers, meant for believers
i want to dream, i want to believe
that i will be fine
midnight, and i run away from the town
to seek freedom in the starry night
zoe Nov 2024
The Necromancer first noticed her magic
at seven, when her cousin passed.
Thunder descended upon her planet
to whisper a soft, solemn song of despair
and she knew, before anyone told her,
she knew death.

At thirteen, Pops followed into darkness,
but the Necromancer saw him again.
He walked her otherworldly dreams
in some distant galaxy, he held her
crying frame, he pleaded between sobs:
Take care of the living.

Still, the Necromancer never ceased to go
into other realms, flirting with the abyss,
colouring neverlands with her imagination.

It all changed when her youngest sibling
Fell.

Now, only sometimes,
when a full moon looms over silver clouds,
only then she peers behind the veil
and visits her brother in another existence.
They talk, they laugh, they cry,
but she always returns home,
because he is the one soul
with the magic to convince her
to live.
There has been a fair amount of Isabel Allende and magical realism in my life lately. Can you tell?
Vrinda Nov 2024
"They say dreams come true.
aren't nightmares dreams too?"
She said
"My biggest nightmare was when
  I dreamt of falling for you."
  He sighed
"Guess dreams do come true."
Zee Nov 2024
I've played with demons.
As the bright light dwindled.

Got burned by their lies.
I was the moth to their flame.

Dancing with the darkness.
Without a warning sign.

It seemed chaos.
Was my only vice.

Maybe I asked for it.
Just this time.

They took me in.
They spat me out.

Made a home out of my bones.
Made me bleed with a smile.

Some would say I'm tragic.
Some would say I'm manic.

That I'd take a nightmare.
More than I'd take living.

I guess the demons in my dreams.
Are also hidden angels underneath.

As they save me from this aching reality.
Nahin Nov 2024
When you're done with chores,
Taking the dishes to the sink,
gently rubbing each until one's
left that you mindlessly rub-
Is it true that I'm gone?

Albums of long lost memories
kept aside your closet beneath
neatly folded clothes- when touched,
you avoid them intentionally-
Is it true that I'm gone?

When pages of book flap in wind-
passing by you beside window,
your vacant gaze upon a line-
that stirred thoughts behind time,
Is it true that I'm gone?

Why is it that your coffee
left on table often gets cold?
Distracted- you sense an hour
passes by like your secret brief sigh.
Is it true that I'm gone?

Late at night, when lights go off-
birds go numb, in screaming silence,
is it that you still make a wish
for me in your dreams?
Is it true that I'm gone?
Once a man had died in war. But he left a letter for his wife. A letter of confrontations. A letter of unuttered love.
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