Nocturne

Nocturne

A Poem by KatDarkness

Hard therapy of the moonlight,

I was never yours to keep;

Sometimes the ailing lady,

Weak as water, flushes amber, 

A harvest fever. 

---

Cool and pensive, miles of stars burn 

In your stained glass eyes, catch in

Your lashes like fragments of

Dreams, carnivalesque, but still I 

Run through nightmares. 

---

Sometimes in cold rooms they harvest 

Hearts; my own is relentless as 

Nighttime, my own is a knot 

Of red-hot regret pulsing deep in 

A valley of shame.

© 2014 KatDarkness


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Added on October 5, 2014
Last Updated on October 5, 2014
Tags: in the night, autumn, sickness, death

Author

KatDarkness
KatDarkness

Ireland



About
My name is Kathy, and I am a psychological horror writer, who enjoys philosophy, psychology, art, writing (duh!) reading books by Stephen King and Karin Slaughter; and writing dark, abstract poetry an.. more..

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