My moon,
w i t h o u t your delicate fingers
stroking the claustrophobic chambers
of this nocturnal heart,
I search for macabre metaphors
to feed the midnight monsters
lurking in the cold crevices of darkness,
like enemies befriending my suppressed trauma,
masking infernal intentions
with serpentine allure
and diamond daggers,
playing tricks on the soul of twilight.
As in your absence,
I am l o s...
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