A wanton moon
This wanton moon that makes me crave your innocence of marble nape my hands are ice, come be my slave I’ll steal your softness in my cape. I lust for […]
Tag Archives: sonnet
Only when you sleep
You carry in your wildness scent of moonlight and in your breath is blossom and the songs of graveyards, you are both the taste of night and awkward singe of […]
Both life and cause of death
You’re butterfly effect — causality of songs, the meadowlark of summer days, the footsteps swallowed in mortality, an aftermath from nights and morphine daze. You’re both the timpani and piccola, […]
Safer in the dark
There is a certain coldness with the comfort of divisions; in the border of a window, I stay detached; I’m safe and covered cloaked by this, my darkest night. The […]
Need is moon
My need is moon: the way it silvers nape, your neck with veins pulsating, waiting as the paleness of my hands, as snakes are reaching; I’m a shadow; more a […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 