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the nights I mostly miss you
I wish that I had kissed you
the last time--
gray clouds sucking on the
forlorn skies, black as tar
or sticky flies, lies
hang like stars;
I reside here on the over
stumbling over broken glass.
I retrieve Mars
with my eyes
the stars I hung are lies
that decorate the skies.
I hear a distorted ticking,
a spiraling motion--
time, melting, I thought we'd
figured out.
with every lie I tell
I hang another star and for
each one that I repent for
I hang another in its place.
For every Hell I find
I make ten more
and each one I can conquer,
twenty more.
The darkness that I speak of
is only an image.
I can never reach it,
never convey how I truly feel to you.
these words are just a blanket
beneath them I feel close to you.
adverse in closure
for most anything I write;
sour wine;
and sweet blackberry blood
in my veins.
i am a minx and a
hedge witch, all the same.
I am, forever
draped in green
in your dreams. Steel knives
stab the bend of my arm,
a luscious exposure
a rushed epiphany
a warm embrace of yellow
and when I show you the other
side of my love,
you close shut.
the yard crows cry in sorrow for
us, I congregate them
with my kisses.

23 Nov 18

Rated 9.7 (9.7) by 3 users.
Active (3): 10
Inactive (0): 9, 10

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(19 more poems by this author)

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hedge witch  do they exist
 — unknown

maybe go with either: 'black as a tar pit' or just 'black as tar' in 6.
also, not sure 'sorriness' works in 53.  how about just 'sorrow'?
quite like it otherwise.
 — JKWeb

Hey Jk. Thanks :) check it now
 — sylvia

yeah! hedge witches. better check your bushes
 — sylvia

had another read, yes indeed.
 — JKWeb