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What would you like to know about me?
Should I say
I keep my eyes and windows open
Even on cold winter nights?
Because Nights intoxicate me like women
Holding a curved knife, which is
The Moon made of ice
Ready to melt into my glass
From which I drink
And forget
That I have been drinking thorns and stars alike
For ages...
Yet I never cried...
Nobody heard me, crying...
Yes ...these lonely nights have made me
Laugh in the day time, let me stand without support
And in return I have promised her my blood...
1 comment:
These lines fell tripping over my finger ends when I wrote a brief introduction recently to get a membership of a library. These lines interfered with the ones I wrote there, so back home I sat down to unburdened my jaded mind.
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