DiAmaya Dawn
Feb 12, 2019 · 1 min read

Stop staring at the furniture around us, for this house
is as empty as the coldest of voids. Do not listen to our
raised voices, for our talks are hollow — no matter how
loud you scream, I cannot hear a word you say. My love,
do not threaten me with intentions of stealing more light,
for the blind man does not fear the dark. But if you
ought to watch a thing, and if you must hear a sound,

~Watch me balancing on eternity’s pentagram~

Hear the sounds my feet produce as I step on the blue I seek
in my darkest of days, read my words in this poem and stay
still as they form the steps of an infinite ladder that leads us
to the truth, when arms are wrapped around bare bodies but
the souls feel naked the most. And then, reminisce how my
thoughts have always been bright, and when my voice echoes
children’s laughter, my one, please forget I existed at all.

Lit Up

Welcome to Lit Up -The Land of Little Tales.

DiAmaya Dawn

Written by

Reader, writer, editor, poet, dancer, music addict. Japanophile, pluviophile and attracted by darkness. Part normal, part Greek.

Lit Up

Lit Up

Welcome to Lit Up -The Land of Little Tales. Here you can read and submit short stories, flash fiction, poetry - in brief, your own legend. We're starting little. But that's how all big stories begin.

More From Medium

More from Lit Up

Mar 28 · 15 min read


More from Lit Up

More from Lit Up

Beneath the Earth

Mar 30 · 3 min read


More from Lit Up

More from Lit Up

Here, A Rainy Life


Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade