Local Social Drama - Poetry - My Lighthouse - Mustafa

My lighthouse

She comes to me,
Late at night,
When I am transcending,
Into my subconscious;

Her skin, milky white,
Painted with black and blue ink,
Her fragrance,
Like a blossomed flower;

I sense her coming near,
Hear her warm breath,
As she slides right next to me,
Her body shivering, holding me;

Shipwrecked by broken promises and lies,
In my darkest nights, she holds me,
Guiding me like a lighthouse,
To a sailor who has lost all hope;

She gives me hope when,
It is impossible for me to fight my demons,
Prevents me from drowning,
Into a vicious cycle of self-loathing;

And when the morning arrives,
Fresh with a salty breeze,
Along with birdsong,
She leaves me feeling sane again;

Revives me again,
With a feeling only she can provide,
My lighthouse in the storm,
The savior of my life…

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