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When cyan night's 
raspberry moon
is dipped in softness 
of the afterglows, 
I gaze at that glossy
first evening star between 
creamy fingers of 
my cherry palm, 
which trace lunar kins -
those angelic fireflies, 
twinkling and pirouetting, 
like a golden blush ~
serenading in 
lucid flames of 
lustrous patience. 
With comets 
reverberating 
in my wish, I stole 
the milky way and 
let my hopes
slide down those 
creamy clusters 
of cosmos. 

But, I still reminisce 
that velveteen 
midnight in the
love-orchards, 
where I laid upon those
lush petals of pixies
and quartz-daffodils
were tucked in my 
orange-bronze
hair-strings,
my beloved swathed 
the satin shorelines of 
our saga with 
conch shells of 
sweet edenic scents ~
just when, 
sheen shooting-stars
came twirling upon 
sepia ashes 
as hellfire stretched 
across our desires and faith, 
in the ricocheting flames
of fate's opal envy. 

I presumed for
lunar stones of 
lapis lazuli poesy
to be our destiny's 
only shimmering saviour -
but those elegant deceits, 
carved within a
raging tale of jealousy, 
never let these 
sanguine harps to
synchronize in 
our orchestrating 
euphoria. 

Perhaps, 
I'd engulfed the 
marigold sun
and henceforth, I shall 
be succumbed into 
the ambrosial abyss
of sacrosanct nature, 
negotiating a 
nascent darkness
for my nefarious soul
and shaping a 
nemesis for death's 
lionhearted dawn. 

I will now unsung 
every amaranthine hymn of 
magick - that strangled
my oxygenated lawns,
lathering them with
heart-shaped fog of 
cruel carnations. 

These orchid lifelines
have prepared 
for an addictive waltz, 
in the hieroglyphic 
anxiety of these
umpteenth seconds -
playing with the last 
ebony cadence within ivory keys
of my pearlescent piano~ 
as luscious laughters will be 
turned to ravenous retreats, 
- and this rhetoric life will 
perform in a fallen angel's
perfumed deceit.  

So, when these
periwinkle phrases 
quiver and surrender 
on the emerald brim of a
betraying tale-
stargazer lily petals
will adhere like 
disheartened feathers 
on my eclipsed tomb,
carving twisted reveries
of my absence on
twin-flames' mausoleum. 

"Maybe, each wailing 
dahlia's diamond dreams 
are blanketed with 
scentless thistles of tyranny ~

   And this wingless love has breathed its 
                             archaic silence, too soon... "
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