I Rest My Glasses | Poem

There’s an unnamed place,

Which often sells sweetest fruits,

The price is your pain and sorrow,

Will you buy the fruits for me, Liebe?

Soon, the morning will take away blankets,

The noises of mystified life will scream,

The desires I kept hidden to die will rise,

Do you know what is coming?

I’m wandering in intoxicated palaces,

Where you once lay naked,

And, I remember,

You spread your caged wings,

And, freed of borderline pains.

Liebe,

Why did I name you of love?

Still,

You don’t consider to see how I survived,

When the dearest ones kidnapped my soul,

And, there I screamed,

When I got raped of my mind.

Still,

I crave to write, Deathra,

I may know each craft of this world,

I wonder what words curse me with,

Keep caressing my forehead,

I may sleep in death another night.

© sjwordsmith

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