Darkness

Darkness

A Poem by Elisa L

Darkness is likely my closest friend, a woman who I’ve always known I can trust. She has never lied to me or betrayed me, or pretended she didn’t care. She has never regretted anything she’s done and she is always painstakingly careful with her words. She sits there like beauty, with her long hair soft, and she sighs like lighting with a voice like rocks. She’s gentle, too, each touch is a caress, and I find myself often lost in the folds of her dress- which is long and white and always too clean. Her eyes are bright and purple, but sometimes red, and they gleam mischievously and search for my weakness’, so that she may fortify them. Her lips are thin but pink and soft, and when she speaks they hardly part. Everything she says Is like a whisper or the wind, it comes out so quiet but impossible to ignore for the words that she utters when she does, which isn’t often, are hurricanes and thunderstorms.


I’ve seen the way darkness is when she isn’t with me, and I see all the things that she can be. She is cruel and manipulative and steals young men’s dreams. But I must say I cannot care, for she gives them to me. Sweet dreams, they are, of water and salt. Of sand and seashells, of harbors and docks. Of dolphins and sailboats and great humpback whales; then of mountains and forests and long red fox tails. There are flowers like roses and tulips and daisies, and the little white lilies in ponds on their pads- which is where the toads sit as they croak and eye flies, but I must say even the toads are lovely through her eyes.


She gives me these dreams in the night when it’s dark, which is they only time she comes calling. Then I wake from my sleep and we sit side by side and talk for hours about what others would call ‘nothing.’ But it isn’t, you see, it’s really quite a bit. It’s nightmares and demons and ghosts. It’s terror and shame and often ill-feeling, and things that I do not trust to any other ear. Why do I tell darkness? Well, because she will listen. She will sit and keep her white teeth from showing. She will smile when she should and laugh and cry too, and touch me but only if I cry. She is always there for me and she always has been, and in darkness I have found my only comfort. For it is her singular ways and her off-key just right phrases that let me wake up when the sun rises in the mornings.

© 2013 Elisa L


Author's Note

Elisa L
THIS A NARRATIVE BUT ALSO A POEM WRITTEN IN PARAGRAPH FORMAT BUT IT'S NOT A POEM BUT IT IS

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I enjoyed the word choice and reading the author's note

Posted 11 Years Ago


STOP FREAKING OUT GREAT POEM

Posted 11 Years Ago



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Added on September 4, 2013
Last Updated on September 4, 2013

Author

Elisa L
Elisa L

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