deepundergroundpoetry.com

hand of glass


  
   
From the pitch of dark,    
these corners glow in earnest    
'Tis this one purest object of desired    
one and of thine own feathered touch  
with hand of glass,  
and fairest of all the fragile broken pieces;  
listen to thy sweetest sounds    
quietly—  
Dare to listen
 
as our,  
or maybe my,  
favorite'd did travel  
atop each blinding jagged streak,    
higher with each plea  
of hushed benevolence  
in all it's darkness curving    
To lay claim and pine...    
O' to beg for such it is    
I will    
time,    
and time,    
and time again    
with my smug like clever  
or the yawn of battered hearted ease    
Still, I listen for such a telltale find    
my all and everything  
   
and yet ...    
from the pitch dark    
these corners still glow in earnest    
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
Author's Note
© Blu2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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