Dark Faun, My Lover


Dark Faun
Give me back my darkness
My wings
Give me back the story you took away
Unfinished untold and censored
It is raining again on my memories

The fog is thick but warm
The fog is the home of our commenced communication
On the railway station torn out from an unfinished novel…
… there where you had thrown away a cigarette butt
putting out with it the fire of your heartless heart

I want back my darkness
Without it books are not readable
Without it home is not bearable
Bread is not edible and
Rain is just

Give it back
Scream it back
Slam it back
Give me back my wings
Your dark kisses
That I can stay
Hidden away
Close the door
Run away

  1. Avatar of Andrew J. Sacks
    Andrew J. Sacks says

    Branka, thank you again for fine and thought-provoking work!

  2. Avatar of Branka Cubrilo
    Branka Cubrilo says

    Thank you Andrew for your comment. Look, I am glad that you like my poem again, sometimes people ask me ‘why am I not brighter’ (in my poems). I live brightness to bright(er)people!! I assume you know what I want to say. Cheers, Branka.

  3. Avatar of hhorvat
    hhorvat says

    I like it, it is thought provoking but also exceptionally dimentional in the fact that I felt transported to another relm (chanting the words of your poem) into yourt photo and yet all the while feeling like wanting to run away from life.

    Sorry, I hope my comment doesn’t spook you.

  4. Avatar of Branka Cubrilo
    Branka Cubrilo says

    Well, Mr.Horvat, your comment doesn’t spook me indeed. I appreciate your feedback and the fact that my poem made you feel certain way tells me that there are people out there who feel like me (at times!). Cheers!

  5. Avatar of Claudio Vincenzo Ferrara
    Claudio Vincenzo Ferrara says

    An absolute achievement again. Of course I loved it! Who wouldn’t love your unique way of expressing yourself through such fine sketches. You DO and you DON”T surprise me every time I read something written by you.
    @hhorvat, your comment doesn’t spook, the poem is ‘exceptionally dimentional’ as you said, and the reader feels transported into that foggy, rainy atmosphere, one can see the cigarette but in the mud, one can feel tension, slow and almost non-existent beating of that ‘heartless heart.’ Darkness is a place of creativity, running away is running away form the reality. Thanks Branka!

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