In an attic
where the windows are boarded shut
and the light creeps below the seal.
Swaying against the shadows
Beating in soft-forming rhythm
Are hearts dwell,
and pretty little illusions prey,
Our minds quarry in the shade,
With casts of flickering sun to mirage,
To throw open the draperies,
To bask under the suns gentle rays.
Wounded by the darkness the realm of blackness
to sway,
Victims of our romance,
Our hearts in irregularity
in a pattern shape.


6 thoughts on “Attic

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s