Black Dress

 

She is the moon to my dark night

adding lightness to guide my path,

like a star to my grey cloud.

I'm the thunder roaring loud,

she the lightning that blinds,

the glue that binds.

I'm the one always trying

to run and hide,

flee from the feelings

I hold inside.

 

She is the voice

that speaks delicate tones,

I'm the screams that echo

through creaking old bones.

Tread careful weary traveller

her sign would say,

as I bound towards the edge.

And as I sway

ready to fall.

I think.

She would be the hand

that pulls me back from the brink.

 

She is the voice that sits in my head

when I'm lying awake in my bed.

She is the one that says

just close your eyes,

don't look around in dread.

I know not her name.

I've never seen her face,

just felt her sweet embrace.

 

If I close my eyes

I sometimes catch a glimpse.

A swaying black dress dancing

in the inky blackness

of the vast empty expanse.

I sometimes hear her voice on the wind

when all the other voices are being unkind.

Is she just a figment of the mind?

Or is she a voice from someplace else

trying to send me a sign?

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle