The secret place

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Take me to your place
of catacombs and such,
where the darkness makes the night seem day
and whispers turn to screams

Take me to your place
of fields of linoleum,
where penguin suits and cocktail gowns
make little girls dreams

Take me to your place
of cemented pillar streets,
where the dust blows down the alleyways
and it fills you with despair

Take me to your place
of endless little things,
where you laugh yourself to sleep at night
because no one else is there

Take me to your place
of bolted doors and locks,
where petulance is the game you play
when you cant find the key

Take me to your place
of all the broken mirrors,
where the symbolically cracked reflection
is the only one you see

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3 thoughts on “The secret place”

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