Witching Hour

As bubbles caress my skin
Thoughts where darkness dwells
Jostling towards heat
Twisting and turning in his embrace
And pain becomes pleasure
Eerie emptiness sinking into horror
Intoxicating the bitter sweetness
Carving out the vision
To see beyond my shattered drapery
A tale that transcends death
A beauty in melancholy
Whispering to me tales of love
Engulfing my heart with a woolen glove
My body is nothing but a grave
Haunting me with memories
Like a dove in a cage waiting to break free
Nay holdeth mysteries
Like the wind whispering to the trees
Leaving the dead to the earth
And burying my sorrows
Inside the tomb where my love is found
And all that remains is a body
Crumbling beneath the sorrows
Marching towards never found happiness
  • I'm Devasena, a free spirit with a passion for quilling and surfing through the tides on toes plunging into new deals discovering the intricate folds of life. Author of Moondrops: A Journey of Incantation

Share This Tale

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on email

Join Written Tales

Helping connect readers & writers!

Recommended Tales



The lunatic, the lover, and the poet are of imagination all compact. William Shakespeare Tonight the moon’s a-shining, So full

Read More »

Cortisol Joyride

Tick-Tock.  Tick-Tock. The blood on the clock trickles the hour I once recalled. The death knell commenced with the intentional

Read More »

Leave a Comment

Join Written Tales
Helping readers & writers connect!