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Grasping For Me

Dark lace falling over the hands
grasping for me.
Thin fingers, bony knuckles,
pale long hands,
tattooed with symbols,
grasping for me slowly...
Let me take your hands
and follow you into the shadow
to learn the secrets of the dark.





Autumn is the right time for me to write darker and kind of eerie poems like this one.
First published here.
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