Verena

Meet me at midnight And I will show you things Beyond your wildest of dreams

Take my hand, let me be your guide As we soar through empty streets Guided by traffic signals and wind screams

You will be at awe at the sights Seeing the world quiet and calm That indeed reality is not made of chaos

And in the empty you feel the high Of the endless possibilities That could come from nights like these

Isn’t it such a delight To disregard the confines You set yourself out of spite

So much that from this height The distance is what you don’t see Until you are falling free

And I’m sorry to cast this blight Upon you but I will stall For time despite the loss

The allure of glittering lights Is too bright to unsee Even for the calmest of streams

It is a shame that for the mind It realizes too late that life is but a feeble dream And everything is not what it seems

Litany of Midnights

I am tired. I breathe deeply and my

ribs cave in or explode out from me.

Little spikes that skewer through me and stick

out from my flesh. In this way, I am like a porcupine.

In this way, I am an urchin.

In this way, i am a bed of nails waiting for you

lay down to rest. Lonely, and at midnight.

Today the rain is flowing like honey.

The thirsty ground is soaking it up.

The sky is dark. There is no sun.

The afternoon looks like midnight.

With the curtains drawn, my house

sits like a mausoleum on my lawn.

Is it surprising for me to say I hate

everything?  Is it surprising

that I am impatient and restless and

am counting the days without you.

They are numerous, like the stars

at midnight, without the cover of clouds.

I woke with my hands tingling and

mouth dry.

My eyes too felt to be stinging of

sweat from the night before. Or was it

tears? Or blood?

I rose up from the bed of nails, and putting

my shoes on,

walked out into the morning fog.

The moon, like a silver goddess,

still upon her throne, flashing glitter through

the haze, and I like midnight,

walking darkly into it.

An alien sound so queer,

But really not surprising,

It reveals my eyes from lids sealed,

Ears picked up the motion,

Eyes followed slowly wide,

Open to the darkness,

Adjusting to what at midnight lies,

Attuning of all senses,

Hairs at back of neck tight,

To the potential darkness possesses,

To fear or flight or fight tide,

Consciousness strengthless,

Drowsiness gone in respite,

Dog kicks the chair leg senseless,

As in dreamland he’s stretched out in flight,

As the hour midnight dances,

The thoughts begin to ignite,

Of time gone by chances,

Of relationships ended in goodbye,

Once again the trial commences,

The left against the right,

The question of making the stances,

The moral of taking the fight?

Hours it will be that it dances,

And dallies to earliest light,

Never forgotten the chances,

Rétrospectively remembered another midnight.

By...

The face of a man, who was way past his years. His face reflecting shimmering light, Stole what was bright—he was a mean one, I hear.

He told me he had a plan, To wash out the sun’s light at hand.

But I told him, that’d wash his light out too. He said, “But I’ll still be here, watching after you.”

I laughed at his jokes, his face content and peaceful. And when I cried, he shot down some paints and an easel. Told me to paint what hurt me, So that I could control them with ease. I gave him my heart, he gave me no tease.

Now he controls the tides of my tears, His face still of a man, past his years.

But this time it was still shimmering bright, Because I convinced him to take a chance on the sun’s light.

Now the sun and the moon, dance at night, And everything that was wrong Is now somehow right.

Prompt 'Midnight' by @thenightquill, hosted by @picklemafia

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You and me— a star-filled sky. Looking for constellations. Your hand brushes my shoulder, warm. "There's the Little Dipper." You point, smiling, delighted. I glance, nod. I'm watching you. These stars mean nothing without you.

We stay out late, waiting for the Big Dipper to shift into our point of view. We lay in dew-wet grass. The blades are cold, itchy. It's worth it to hold your hand. The stars do shift. We forget about the Big Dipper.

I smile at you and point out how beautiful the moon is. You tell me that I am beautiful. We stand. We kiss. You check the time. "Better head inside, it's almost midnight."

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Written for the prompt "Midnight" by @thenightquill hosted by @picklemafia