Breathing and dancing on the day of the dead
Sweet november arising on a night next to a brush fire
I can smell in the air the scent of hotel tombs
Death wrapping me like a treasonous delight
On the cold nights of the month
I run and escape the rules
Looking at the half moon, staring in the darkness
I hear the owls and bats and wolves
Fear takes over, along with hesitation
The pearlescent rain, soaking me to the bones
As I lay shrivelling alone in a dark corner
Remembrance and adoration, I scream
And gasp for air, and welcome Death
As I fall into a dream of what-ifs …
~
Slipping into the other side
I hear again your whispers and greetings
Moans of desire and passionate welcomes
Memories may break my fall into oblivion
Yet cemetery secrets hold tight my heart
Keeping it captive and stifling
I remember when I used to gamble
Love was a game, testing limits
Tasting you like a thirsty animal
Finding my way out of the woods and its prison
Now, between sleep and dreams, it’s where I am
I belong to the border, where none is reality
But where both intertwine and create my mind
I feel the touch of sunlight your fingers once brought
And the wind songs I could hear through the open windows
I felt like falling into quicksand, with you always nearby
To save me and take me up the cliffs
We would see reefs and wrecks in our imaginary future
And we would create origami hearts when ours were broken
I feel the pain going away, and I remember
All the hazy days spent in bed, making memories
I want that delirium to last forever, the warmth to wrap me
The smell of that amber romance to intoxicate me
You discovered my unseen layer
The one I wanted to keep secret and buried in me
You touched every part I used to hide
The thought of it quickened my pulse in the past
Now it keeps darkling my heart, my dirty soul screams
And prays and hopes for absolution
Only notes of nostalgia remain, away from reality
~
And when I wake up … dream far away
Death welcomes me, giving me a new goal
The one to find light … or maybe darkness
Because it is where home is now
About the Creator
Diana Sol
29 years old fan of poetry and literature
Bookworn and a teacher
* Be the change you wanna see in the world*
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