Author’s Note: This poem came to me at around 3am when I couldn’t sleep. I scrambled to write this onto my notes app in the dark. There’s something about the night that screams inspiration, but that same inspiration can go quickly.
Read while listening for maximum immersion:
Stinging eyes from endless nights
Careening toward her gentle touch
Brushing past my limbs, my cheeks
My eyes—they burn—and yet I yearn
For that poetic, elusive muse to pour
Forevermore with her fleeting grace
Cursed to endlessly chase…
Just one moment—
And she is gone
A whispered song, a listless lull
My eyes well with tumultuous tears
The countless years I have spent
In such agonizing torment
Yet, still, it is she that I crave
Who will soon become my grave
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If you enjoyed this gothic poem, check out some of my other ones:
Great poetry, you should def do more.
love this, it's true, I find that I have to follow the beck and call of inspiration when it strikes or else