February 2019

Stop staring at the furniture around us, for this house 
is as empty as the coldest of voids. Do not listen to our 
raised voices, for our talks are hollow — no matter how
loud you scream, I cannot hear a word you say. My love,
do not threaten me with intentions of stealing more light,
for the blind man does not fear the dark. But if you 
ought to watch a thing, and if you must hear a sound,

~Watch me balancing on eternity’s pentagram~

Hear the sounds my feet produce as I step on the blue I seek 
in my darkest of days, read my words in this poem and stay 
still as they form the steps of an infinite ladder that leads us 
to the truth, when arms are wrapped around bare bodies but 
the souls feel naked the most. And then, reminisce how my 
thoughts have always been bright, and when my voice echoes 
children’s laughter, my one, please forget I existed at all.


©2018 by Diamaya Dawn. All Rights Reserved.

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