We suffer and struggle for air
Reach for company that isn't there
In the blackness of black
Of the dark dark night
We touch on wrong and we hope it's right.
Blindly I hunt for my true love
Like a lady who seeks the pair to her glove
In the blackness
I turn over every dark stone
I touch on nothing; 'no luck,' I moan.
Hands fumble for hands in the gloom
But I know you're here in the room
I'll cover my face
And I'll count to ten
And when I've finished, you'll be back again.
Somewhere in the blackness of black
You are hiding.
Soon I know
We will be colliding
confiding, coinciding.
Author notes
It breaks the metre at the end but I don't want to change that.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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'It breaks the metre at the end but I don't want to change that.' POETIC LICENSE! All poets are by law allowed to use language how they see fit to create poems, call it free verse girl, so what you broke meter, this is a fantastic poem. I had thoughts conjure of some dark pride and predjudice moment. Then the doctor turned up and it turned into Madame D'Pompadour. This was a very enovking poem, it counjured many feelings, which I am currently trying to digest!
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we touch on wrong and hope it's right
so true. Very nicely penned.
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