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There he stood outside the windowsill—waiting for the wind
to whisper in her ears, his soft call of her name
heed the faceless man, there he stood, outside the windowsill.

Her soul awakens and her hand in her chin
fresh from the bathe of her blood—there Avernus,
faceless, standing outside her chamber—waiting for the woman to fall asleep.

The faceless man than wanting to reside by her side,
softly lulling her into death, prickling her thumb with a needle of life and death
through the parallel of his world and hers—there he stood waiting for his muse.

He grows slowly and deeply, his stomach churning—savoring
her blood in his mind, he waits until she falls asleep.

Her eyes wandered through the thin port outside her room—
The trees harshly peering through her window,
It is as if, they were telling dark tales in the midnight dawn of the night.
Avernus then sang in his native tongue; his muse terrified at the sight of him—yet there was
comfort between the wind and the chilly night outside her window.

“It’s cold outside, why are you standing there?” She called out.
Here comes a new poem. :)
Poetic Eagle Apr 21
It's the silence of the night
That makes the thoughts of you so loud
Close in distance
"SHE LOOKS INTO MY HEART."

I said to her, I
told her that
she resembles
the moon  in the
midnight when
she's at her
brightest state.
She looks into
my heart when
she fixate.(s) She
resembled the
sun too and moon
were her
siblings. Because
they
glamorously shines
together.
#C9_fm
Tanya Apr 14
yesterday
in blurry sight I discerned
the shape of your face-
an ink kissed by a drop of water-
and I thought I cloud draw you
a thousand times

today
I woke up and you weren’t here
and I thought I’d rather look at you
a thousand more
Martin Boško Apr 13
Midnight loneliness
Waiting for me in shadows
Plotting an attack
Duckie Apr 10
As midnight hit, I lay in the warmth of a near spilling tub.
Silence pollutes four steamed walls, echoes of pitter-patter
From the infant upstairs, distant voices from the movie
My mother watched in another room, an occasional drip
Of the hot tap, the scrape of ink across damp paper,
A slurp of tea between my lips, are the only sounds.

I should have been washing, instead I thought of your hand
Caressing a blade across my legs, your shampoo soaked fingertips
Tickling at my scalp, your mouth pinching kisses from my *******,
Your eyes following soap suds descending down silky skin.

My chin rests upon my knee, tea leaks from wet lips
Staining a pale leg, dispersing beneath the surface,
The water browns, so I bathe in tea and sugar
The sweet stench unable to distract me from you.
She dressed herself in beguiling array,
never did she grumble nor ever she dared say..
that her life
is not worth living
even when she only lasts a day.



•rb
Michael Apr 3
Night time, where whispers in my mind
make it hard to fall asleep.
Inclined, it's Time I seek to find.
I've left so much behind.  I'm in too deep.
Shadows dance and keep my glance,
as I lay here wide awake.
Tossing, turning in my bed.
All my thoughts hiss like a snake.
Counting sheep to fall asleep
just doesn't work for me.
With all these whispers whispering,
the rain's my remedy.
  My soothing melody.
With the light slipping through the cracks of my shut windows.

My records playing and travelling around every surface of this cursed house.

The ringing of the alarm from my sisters room awakens me from my midnight daze.

The peace of such a restless night finally decides to befall on my worn out body.

My dreams to be reflected from the sunlight gleam
Always aiming for my mind and it's spectres.

-Kore
Busy night but its time to sleep
The openness that the curtains were giving me
is terrifyingly peaceful —
the bundle of joy I felt when a little boy creeps in
and peeked through while his eyes roam around
and I gazed upon his hopeless dilated pupil.

Around the bushes outside, there are roses
blooming in the night — while his shirt has been struck like lightning laid his hands on him
and there were bloods sticking out his nose;
Ceased brows were heavily in my forehead
then I saw him enter my room with a knife
glued into his hands.

The eerie tic of my shivering body
must have given him the freedom to do the stabbing and I let him do that — closing my eyes
while I wait for him to shout and beg,
I kneeled down in front of him and let my tears get a hold of me.

"I must have left you on the cold, I apologize."
I said and he stabbed me right in the heart.
The little boy smirked while I lost consciousness and everything seems slow in motion — the colors began to fade and my mom suddenly swayed through the door.

The curtains are swaying back and forth and I woke up with a bliss.
There's a little boy outside.
Before you read this, you can listen to 'Bundle of Joy' by Jartisto.

This was inspired by the little boy I saw on tiktok. Anyways, it's been 21 days since I last posted. But, I was always checking this site. It's just the will I don't have. Happy reading.
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