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@evelyn @k-a-grey @libby @kb-writer What do y’all think of this poem? I feel like there’s something missing from it, but I don’t know what. Perhaps a solid ending, more metaphorical connections, I don’t know.

an afternoon betwixt [outside?] the walls,
a fleeting taste of stolen flight;
the moon cascading through the falls
as i take silent through the night.

 

the broken-down, decaying bricks
and ivies floating ’round like stars
can play on minds more mystic tricks
than liquids from the pubs or bars.

 

[do I even need that stanza? ^ maybe I should replace it with something different; it seems out of place]

 

o rain! i pray, fall down on me
and hide my tears among your drops,
e’er twinkling through the lowest tree,
please drip – and drip – and never stop.

 

i wonder if the kind of faith
it takes for you to fall so free
will save me from myself, a wraith
of everything i used to be.