The Midnight that Wasn't

 

 

The Midnight that Wasn’t

 

 

Midnight was a lifetime

That stretched into a road,

The kind that you could see

Nothing beyond the yawning peak,

Like a highway to the stars.

 

Midnight here was all I knew,

Surest and truest,

Like the pinprick of blood

That blooms like a budding rose

On the canvas of never-ending skin.

 

Midnight was the scavenger

That scoured the scene

In the quiet glow of twilight’s moon,

A raven’s wing, torn and drenched

In the crimson tears that crept down its back.

 

Midnight was the sound of screams

That shuddered through the air;

It was the rancid breath of fear,

Thirsty for my hands in yours,

Gasping for air.

 

Midnight was the colour of your eyes

Staring back at the lonely night –

Still, unblinking – yet

Searching for me,

Just not saying a word.

Reviews

[Starsong]

Reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe. Simple, yet vivid, imagery. Nicely done.

[Courtney]

beautiful