Beneath the glow of the waxing moon
I asked myself, should I denounce my reflection too,
Should I walk barefoot onto the somber graveyard?
A Soiree I am yet to experience.
***
A passion I am yet to escape.
What if I am to yield?
Perhaps, bask in the cotton candy too,
Who am I to denounce the pleasure of passing of time?
***
Like my wondering shadow,
Who stalks the nocturnal creatures
how can I protect myself against
the woes, and there midnight splendors?
***
Evidentially, my purpose is to
be glutinous of non-digestible things.
What purpose will I give myself?
A foresight which is unbeknownst to me.
About the Creator
House September
We’ll play with each other’s broken hearts. Let us exchange our pieces like trading cards.
I’m too bored to notice, and you are too high to notice the air beneath your feet.
I have poems to share.
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