forest

Watch out for the leaves you crush in this city that calls the night early
Every sound in the dark is the reason why a child cannot sleep
The monster in my wardrobe smells like you
And I have your clothes under my bed

You approach me in the magic of my words at your own risk
The ropes wrapped in your heart are tied to my fingers
If you make me bite my nails,
I can't hold a pen to write love letters

The forests that couldn't see the stars saw me naked
While the wine in my blood is pouring on my cheeks
I did everything that didn't cross my mind at the highest quality
I didn't wake up in my bed in the morning and I realised that
the sun in your palm left burnt marks on my skin

Reviews

[redzone]

As I read your poem Beren, I thought, UHHO. Nope, this shouldn't be happening. But it did, the "burnt marks" prove it. Is this regret, I read in the lines, "While the wine in my blood is pouring on my cheeks
I did everything that didn't cross my mind at the highest quality"? It also raises another question. Who or what is the "monster"? I am not critiquing your poem Beren, it's more me and my thought process. I really enjoyed how you unfolded the events in the poem.
-Curt

[Beren]

Oh my god! You gave such a different perspective to me ABOUT ME! Such a good reader!

[John the Baptist]

I think you need a new possessor.

[Beren]

I think you need to choose your words better

[Davidgeo]

This feels like something Tom Bombadil would say to me after smoking too much grass again.