Verses By Beordoon

Musings of a Maskuraid…

Tag: Loss



You bred my heart to love,

A lot,

And for blood,

You taught my hands to lust,

In loss.





Mine is the silent prayer of a burdened heart, That regardless of monumental fatigue, May I not encounter sleep. For if I slip, if I mistakenly find - even fitfully sleep, It is almost inevitable, that I dream.   That I may not sleep, to witness the torture, Of being with you in another realm, Happier than a child’s laughter, Lighter than summer clouds, Brighter than the dazzle of gold, in which the miser delights.   That I may not sleep and be led to a false belief, Of More...

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