Midnight Singer

Ophelia
May 3, 2022

Poetry — Come find me, in the moonlit halls of night’s soul

Photo by Magnus Östberg on Unsplash

Your tongue is a river of ink

spreading molten words

down my trembling neck

Your name escapes my lips

soft and quivering

like the first flutterings of a

butterfly’s wings

Hesitant and lost at first

Then strong and sure

against the wind

In my dreams you haunt me

lost in the tattered corners of my mind

Your eyelashes hang like stained lace

as the moon shines through

your slitted eyes

I wait in painful anticipation

for you, my midnight singer

to croon away my burdens

and rake your nails

along my shivering soul

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Ophelia

Dancer with words and my body. Writer of poetry, fiction, and essays.