Conceal All The Weapons
When you think it will be alright, but in the end, it isn’t

With the door tightly shut
There’s never a chance for that
Chitchatting
Or even much closer familiarity
Because everything turned to ashes
From our tightly shut eyelashes
Not seeing the palpable reasons
Of the surrounding state of things
Piercing my eyes like with the lancets
And depriving me of sleep
In this cosy, comfy, and cherished place
Although is not like that anymore
Full of smudges scratched from a scrapbook
For a better new look
In the darkness of an old lamp
Reminding me all that
Shapes I used to wear
It just happened that I had quickly forgotten them
*
For my parents
*
15 May 2021
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Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...




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