Tortured Forms
Tortured forms wrought in panes,
of glass loom
as dust dances through the air,
forming slender beams of blur
in this darkened prison
As I kneel deeply my rough flesh,
on midnight hills,
cascades over
Pale and humps,
full scarlet,
test of blood,
of a rose flash thorn kissing.
Spectral moon hanging in the dusky air
poem by Luca Menin
Added by Poetry Lover
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