I’ve honestly have only watched the first episode of Stranger Things. but your poem stands powerfully on its own. The imagery is so vivid and eerie, it feels like a story in itself.

Wow this is dark. I remember the show. Nicely written.

What! Of course you should’ve been made! All of my bad luck, you are my salvation!
You don’t write “dark” much. But obviously you can when it hits ya. The plethora of details within the write make it full, like a bag of candy when trick or treating. (That black cat I saw a few weeks ago was right outside my front door this evening!).
Haunting write, my Morticia,LOL.

Hahahaha. There’s your word plethora!! You crack me up up.
Me a good luck charm? I feel a pandora charm coming on hehehehe
And you can’t take it back. I’m still your salvation but you have to take me shopping for girl stuff!
Thank you lover !!

Powerfully penned, Adel. Excellent write my friend, this one has darker tones. I dig it. Appreciate you.

Damian

Hey there amigo. It’s the month of Halloween!
Now is the time for darker writes:)
I’m going to indulge in my dark side for a minute. lol

Thanks for the snaps on this write!

Beautifully penned, Brenda. Love the depth and layers in this write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

I like how the poem casts Caligula -a figure known for cruelty -into a haunting, reflective presence. I feel intrigued and a little unsettled: his brutal history seeps through with a mild, almost playful sadism, yet the poem channels that darkness into a tender, romantic meditation on desire, resilience, and the quiet power of love. Beautiful.

Passionately penned, Ghosteen. Incredible write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

Thank you D

Effective personal storytelling through historical abstractions. Your words are both sharp and tender. Always glad to see you posting here.

Cleverly penned, Ghosteen. Great write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

I enjoyed the beginning trickles of affection.
Then the dam broke at the confession!
I grinned the whole time:)

There’s a beautiful tension here –between ruin and tenderness, poetry and flesh. It’s as if love is both the wreck and the rebuilding, the prayer and the profanity. “Poetry passport will only travel me so far” might be one of the truest lines I’ve read about desire’s limits. Beautifully penned, Rob!

“before my daily rebirth” I dug that line because the rest we get (sometimes) refreshes us, although for some more than others, it’s likely the last time. It reminds me that I have to be thankful for every day I get and try to make the best of it.
Nicely done.

I turned 78 today, so I hear you loud and clear. Each night, one wonders if dawn, or something else, or nothing at all will come. We get one of them, but not our choice.