You make me feel so blue.

Deep as the oceans.

The Aphotic Zone of the heart.

Even so, I would not change my feelings.

For you also light up my life.

Transforming me into a beautiful sunrise after midnight.

It's midnight and it's silent,
Just the roar of passing vehicles
Every ten minutes or so.
And a shouting man
Perhaps of being too drunk.
And it would've been pitch black,
If it wasn't for the light from the window.
Now I hear the drops of rain as it touches the roof,
Have you ever wondered
If these raindrops were the tears of our loved ones
in heaven?
or the souls who couldn't enter heaven?
Funnily, it could also be ***,
Of a larger being on top of Earth.

But in reality,

It's midnight and it's not silent.
It's the time when you hear more of what surrounds you,
Even what's inside you.
Your heartbeat,
Your growling stomach,
The voices in your head.
It's the sadness and pain behind that man's scream.
The rush of the vehicles passing,
Their desire to go home,
The rush of holding their beloved in their arms.
Say, close your eyes,
Now you see pitch black,
And some memories
You wish you could relive.

— j.n.

A midnight poet,
she calls herself.
Because the cascading words,
come to her
wrapped up in shiny moonlight,
served on blankets of darkness,
stars dusted lightly on top.
Her inspiration
rides the midnight breeze
swiftly and gently
to her window,
waiting patiently for her
to lift the glass up
and greet them warmly.
So there she sits,
next to the open window
waiting for the perfect moment
to say hello.
To invite her loyal inspiration in
for some midnight tea,
and although she says
she’s not fond of midnight snacks
She pours herself
a steaming mug of metaphors
and serves couplets
with the drink.
After a comfortable chat,
Inspiration takes its leave
out the window
on the breeze in which it came.
And so the girl
is left lonely once more,
but not truly alone.
She has her words,
her rhymes,
her metaphors,
and her couplets
to keep her company
as she forms it all
into beautiful verses
that capture the heart.
As she sits by her window,
the midnight poet
notices how soft the sky looks,
dark and freckled with stars.
The sweet sky comforts her
as she mourns her bitter loneliness into verses,
or envelops her in maddening, exciting emptiness
as she writes
or simply sleeps
by her window.
The midnight poet
sighs gently
catching the wily night’s attention
And draws poetry from its
calming,
yet sly,
grin.
The girl catches falling stars
made of verses
from her pretty window seat.
She finds lines tucked behind faraway planets,
makes metaphors from the moonlight,
comfortable in the darkness’s embrace.
The midnight poet
coaxes poetry from the freckled night sky
And tucks it into her pocket
For safekeeping.
To keep
as an ever loyal
companion.
A reminder
of her home.
A poem of the night.

All I could hear was silence
And then everything went transparent
Your eyes got me stranded
They're in pain, i can't stand it
You said you were being haunted
By the memories you never wanted
Every word you bled was perfect
Your imperfections has always been worth it

To me

I wish you could understand it
I'm here for you even if I'm unwanted
You doubted
You regretted
You were distracted
I get it
I'm always the least expected
And I know I'll never be wanted

By you

Oh, how the sunset boasts
of beauty and majestic hues tinted
for which everything its finger touches
like a king, greater than Midas could ever be
boastful as it resurrects, humbly
opening another dawn.

And there lies the moon
settling between the brilliance
of the days to and had come, without
a shroud of pride - the sun's magnificence
shares half the credit to the lamp
which waits in the dark.

Down where the ocean drowned another day,
Where silver shards of moonlight coalesce
As salt-spray rushes up and falls away
Like laughter, murmured out with a caress,
A dreamed-up Venus wreathed in seafoam light
Steps lively, dancing lonesome on the strand.
Capricious in her shroud of murdered light:
The sea-witch calls a lover from the land
'Til, tangled all together in the neath,
Adrift in trance below the rolling waves,
Eyes meet, then hands, then lips. Why stop to breathe?
Her siren-song calls out to passion's slaves
And once the sea's crescendo drowns out dread,
She snares a heart and makes it hers instead.
Wrapped close enough to strangle, clinging tight
To every curve, each shifting of the tide
As if the midnight moon drowned politesse
To crush together spite and searing lust:
A tempest in a bruise-black dancing dress:
No pity for her prey, ****** dry, left dust.
I dreamed her laughter and her wicked grin
And barely dragged myself, with stifled scream
From drowning in that sweet, voracious sin -
And waking, I grew desperate to dream.
Eternity I spent all piece by piece
'Til, blinded by the darkness, I could slip
Beyond the cruel moon and find release
In Venus, and perfection in her lips.

its harder to speak than to yell.
and harder to yell than to.....think.
but.
as the slumber passes, and the daisies awake.
i feel as if i could talk to you.
just talk.
it might not be a real conversation.
because i might jut blink. and the time i felt i could talk.
would have dashed away from me.

in the night, the stars form into flowers.
others see constellations, or space stations.
but i am unique. i see picturesque flowers bathing in the night glow.
iris. rose. both in bloom. blossoming from the roots of the starry night.
it is really easy to know.
just harder to
speak.

I don’t understand
        why I am afraid
                          of the                                         dark,

It’s not that I’m
            scared of                                                it,
                                                                          
It’s what hides                                              
                    in it.                                            
                                                                          
                                                                          
The lies and secrets                                        
                        we never                                   told,

The nightmares
                         hold                                          me,

Bad choices
              we would                                            regret,

Even the future                                                is  
         not bright anymore,

However
            the dark
                          Is                                              the least of my problems.