Poem Before Bed

I write words for whom I love
I cry out on blank pages and wreck them until the root of the tree
And with trembling leaves of green I make a bed on which I lay my heavy head upon at night and chant myself to sleep
Sheets of cold air cover my beaten body
Bloodstains from raindrops drip
Running on fragments of glass
Making my soaked porcelain skin supple
To live (this life) I had to give my all
A nightingale on my windowsill sings away the darkest of dreams
Remember the nights when stars of ice disguised the beauty of the silent sky
A wolf howled, a little girl weeped
A man set fire and burned the church down
So I went back to sleep

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