Hallowed Spaces
Date: Friday, 9th January 2015 @ 11:20:25 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry


Contributed By: deadreckoning1983

The Moon rises high.
Vindictive,
It casts porcelain shadows,
Like a fan of knives.
Under its waxing and waning
I feel lycanthropic.
Trembling in its magnetic power.
Drawn away from my humanity,
Into a feral landscape,
Untouched, unencumbered by restraint or bias.
Salubrious this place.
Resting without presupposition.
I dreamt of her again,
She still waits for me.
Safe in the hollow of love we carved out.
A carbon copy of our reality.

This poem is Copyright © deadreckoning1983



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