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Damon Robinson Dec 2022
I'm laying on the floor at 1:37am
on a tuesday, or maybe wednesday.
the vents are reeking of that dog again.

Blanketed by only a scented candle
I see shadows, it resembles residue
a stained glass ceiling.

There is an ache between my shoulders
as I contemplate living, or sleeping
but that's always been the same thing.

As I listen to the showering upstairs,
I try to find ways to speak in words
that have nothing to do with you.
@damonrobpoetry on instagram
Blue Butterflies Oct 2022
Midnight,
And the pale moon over my head,
My lonely nights and
Memories haunting me like a wolf
Ferocious and hungry.

Midnight,
And a vast forest of yew trees
Darkness and silence,
And an owl watching like a ghost.
Amidst the darkness I found a voice:
β€˜I’ll love you forever, if you let me’.

Midnight,
And vigilantes with wide eyes.
I never knew what to do
With the unconnected clues,
But you would always
Ask the right questions.

Midnight,
And a faithless heart like mine
That saw monsters and terrors.
My heart like a cold star in the distance.
But you held me close
And put me in the moss
With a blanket of new,
unrecognised, kindness

Midnight,
And a reason to be alive:
I have finally found a place to rest.
Like a meteor you broke into my space
And I was surprised to notice
How lovely it is
To rely on someone
So completely.

It was midnight,
When I realised:
I am here,
I can breathe,
And I can finally love.
Days and nights they come and go
Who keeps them
All but Time
And Seasons belong to one
Whom owns the Here and now

Love will keep our memories dear
Its Heart it gives away
And welcomes all that travel on
The road that draws but near

Feel
Feel Loves close embrace
It guides the Heart and Soul
Feel
Feel the hope it brings
To never ever die
Upon the Midnight Sky

Hidden in Midnight Sky

Promise of
The silent Midnight Sky
πŸŒ›πŸŒŸπŸŒŒβ„πŸ’–πŸŒŸπŸŒœ
Winter eve that never leave
Its touch outreach the night
Cold embrace
Thats out to seek
The moon in Midnight Sky

White the snow that
falls below
That covers all the ground
And sombre but the
Willow tree
Painted by frost's white glow

Hear
Hear the silent echo
Stars above will know
Hear
Hear the voice
That brings the new morn' light
The silent Midnight sky
πŸŒ›πŸŒŸπŸŒŒπŸŒŸβ„πŸŒœ
===to be continued===
How silent is
The midnight sky
When all who sleep
Dreams tales gone by
Lost in visions found down deep
The Dreams they cannot keep

How wonderous
The stars up high
That guides the day
and night
Angels keep a watchfull eye
Over you and I

Seek
Seek the light
Dreams find a place to stay
Seek
Seek the light
A Soul within dreams reside
And all is kept safe inside
The silent midnight sky

πŸŒ›β­πŸŒŒβ­πŸŒœ
===to be continued===
Meandering Words Aug 2022
i caught
the midnight sky
winking at me
as i walked
out the front door;
its clouded lid
falling upon
that bright
but waning eye
for the briefest
of moments

it is hard
to know
if this was
a gesture
Β Β  of endorsement
a translunary "attaboy"
Β Β  of encouragement
to keep walking
this path
less travelled
or an accusatory
reassurance
despite
Β Β  the ambivalence
that my secrets
would be kept
by this
ever-watchful
stellar companion
AE Jul 2022
Let's liberate this silence
Let it blemish with the smoke
Coming off of the cooling coal
That once burned
in the wake of unvoiced promises

Somehow, you and I have managed to exchange dreams,
fears, and beliefs with one simple unspoken conversation

And now words cascade
Down rivers of my arteries and veins
Toward the palm of your hands
Hold them close
(I never intended to let them go)

But it seems that with every nonverbal exchange
A string of understanding ties us together
And there is nothing left in my power that I could do

To save us from the falling sky, splinters of moon,
and blankets of midnight blue
I dream as a flower,
opening in waves
as the pages of a book,
I bloom between dreams
and reality while in
sips of tea, the people
who walk past, they too,
are beings of water in the oceans of
the mind and are visitors of the earth,
stars are in the words they speak
within the the ease of the midnight hour,
the propeller seeds lift for the moon in
the eyes they held for one another,
the depth in the quiet longing
and the secrets of love lead
I, the writer, in my wish to sing, β€œall the
unsung is, by the sight
of the heart, sung forever”,
so then, all the things
they behold become
as they are, wondrous.
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