Speech so slowly
Trickling down my chin,
Like midnight faucets that drip,
Foretelling dangers in the dark.
Horrors tip-toe through the night
With molasses fingertips
And toothy grins
That haunt daytime dreams.
Inescapable feelings of solitude,
Desolation coming softly,
Sweetly caressing cherub faces
That know too much already.
Tired eyes that weep
Still…
Tired eyes that search,
Still waiting for a sign.
NOTE: This poem was written a few weeks ago. Hope you like it. <3
