(not another history)


The Nights Offer

When I sleep
in the tragic ruins
of us

A dark man comes to me
saying he's the Night
asking me what I want

Nothing, I say

The night offers me
his throne
with dark roses
and long, black nails

But I don't want a throne
neither his kingdom


All I want is us to be
not another history


The Night cries
telling me that nobody
can help me with that



Poetry by barbeina
Read 744 times
Written on 2006-07-31 at 19:38

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