if you could touch the night, then surely,
it would be velveted and soft,
draped around bowed shoulders-
drinking midnight from my lips,
hands wrapped around an evergreen spine
it would taste of stale chocolate
and mint leaves-
burns like whiskey in the back
of my aching throat;
there is nothing to swallow my spite
out here in the wilds
see reverent, hold my rapture;
I have not yet loved
the light-
with stars in my hair dripping
to drown quietly in the hollows
of my collar bones
lift me higher, let me look
at the harsh, beautiful moon;
the only goddess I see-
turn my cheek to the dawn
Footnotes
Habeenkii; the Somali word for night. In order of appearance in poem: touch, taste, sight.
1 Comment
ALangford
i love this so so much it's so beautiful & original & oh
also we have a semi similar style you're just better at it lmao
well done !!