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Poem

When midnight flames flicker aesthetic reveries,
releasing ashes of rainbow petals,
upon the canvas of undressed seasons,
I delve into blue blurs of butterflies,
framed in floating colors of nostalgia,
aching for dried dyes to home this scraped heart~
hanging loose, within smoky imagery,
as if every pigment will sprout from lilies of longing.
But can memories thaw frozen zeal,
illustrating steamy sunsets with liquefied rubies,
to unveil a timeless era, retouched and restored,  
from the dust of dusks composed in surrealism?  

And I, the splattering of an ink-blot,  
persist as a dramatized kiss of tongue-stroked silence,  
like a portrait, isolated in artistic utopia,
as love is more than a metaphor that speaks to the moon;
a pastel palette textured with melted roses~
  saturated stars can interpret…

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