LatinosUSA

In midnight’s grip, the shadow claims its due,  

where cold city lights trap in midnight’s grip.

The heart resists yet knows the words are true.  

Days bleed into night, casting shapes anew,  

while whispers carve their secrets cold and deep.  

In midnight’s grip, the shadow claims its due.  

No dawn can pierce the veil that darkness drew,  

we are not talking much; the tide starts to seep.  

The heart resists yet knows the words are true.  

The mirror cracks beneath the weight of view,  

reflecting eyes that promised not to weep.  

In midnight’s grip, the shadow claims its due.  

All light retreats; the soul is torn in two,  

the lime washed walls, watching the sky drip

The heart resists yet knows the words are true.  

And in the end, the shadow walks with you—  

eternal, patient, lean, and never asleep.  

In midnight’s grip, the shadow claims its due.  

The heart resists yet knows the words are true.

@gopallahiri