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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1105328-Die-Dunkelheit-unsere-schlupfwinkel
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by Opaque Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Gothic · #1105328
This is a first draft. Gothic, dark, poetry toward what the competitions want. ENGLISH
Die Dunkelheit, unsere schlupfwinkel. (the darkness, our sanctuary). (work in progress PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS NOT JUST RATINGS)

Nostalgia for days I kissed your marble pure white shoulders
empty hours of mockery and that aching deceitful enunciation;
The wait on the crag, sunset on an azimuth by dark boulders;
but
feeling as I pushed...
and your face screaming upon descension...

And I felt little. Seldom do thoughts of the sepulchre tread on the barren mire of my emotions.



I miss the vanity from owning you and the miserable times;
Your silhouette above, your claws slowly creeping into my chest;
When I said would endure oblivion With you and such trivial lines
but
I saw your soul…
and within your eyes, I decided to divest…

And I felt little. When you do cross my macabre mind I tend to brake into a blissful toothy smile.

I lust for the theatre of the drama of your disturbed desperation;
blank and hollow sunken eyes drawn charcoal, corpse like jowl;
instant nonchalant your halcyon suicidal ideation;
but
You were a heathen…
Nomore. Hitting the rocks you gave such a howl…

And I felt little. Euphoria is associated with your unwarranted death, and I am complete, feel no jealousy at night as I see the sea drag at you.


I mourn for the nights, we sutured another, you and I painted;
We enacted plays, I was silent as a mine, a Harlequin;
It was reverie, succubus and incubus so close I once fainted;
And
have nothing to say,
Now im bloody filthy, I know where I‘ve been.

And i feel nothing.
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