I do not pray to you
Like I would my God.
But when my knees throb
It’s you who listens.
I do not ask you
To remedy my fraud.
It’s Him I beg
To break this prison.
The room is quiet,
As is my Gods remission.
So I cry to you instead,
Past the linens.
And as I close my eyes
I see my cheeks glisten.
Because in His silence,
I find your permission.
The night is empty,
If it not for the stranger’s opalescent.
It’s new to me, you see,
Shaped since adolescence.
My God told me
Shame the darkness in the Light
But you showed me,
I am brighter in the night.
About the Creator
Lillith.Poetry
My writing, my poetry, it’s chaotic. But it’s the chaos in thoughts, words, and the scribbled letters in torn journals that brings me tranquility.
I’m just a poet who is obsessed with words that mean more than what they read to be.
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The Devil's Triangle
The sails ruffled in the breeze as we cruised along. The Sea Breeze was a mid-size catamaran that sailed out of Royal Naval Dockyard in Bermuda. We had booked this trip weeks in advance and were now looking at our Captain, Spike and two boat hands. Paddy and Wilson seemed like nice guys, joking around with the passengers and telling us some stories about Bermuda that only locals would know. Their island accents sounded almost British but they were pleasant to listen to.
By Barbara Gode Wilesabout 17 hours ago in Fiction
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