Email Poem

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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem

O n c e upon
 a medieval arc, 
when the coral night 
 was engrossed in 
     fuchsia epitaphs of fireflies,
your fingers,
  embalmed
in the fangs of february moon,
shredded the love ~
 patchworked
  upon my lifeline,
    as gold-lilacs slowly wilted
 in a casket of wisteria vines ~
  and Luna faded
   in the
  candlelit
   cracks 
       of
       y o u , 
     my beloved... 

If the sunset were
 soaked in tears
 and the skies
 rained rubies 
  across maroon meadows 
of melancholic maidens ~
  as they plucked 
peridot flowers 
and let the agony
 glide on pollen, 
  collected in a
 bouquet of stars, 
 you would've been 
the memory which
 I enveloped 
 within rainbows 
  and carefully
 laced with warmth, 
  above my
 clementine constellation... 

Perhaps, my conscience
deluded me into believing, 
that you were ~
  the catharsis for my confusion, 
 the cure for my clueless conscience, 
the blessing beautifying my bane... 
   and the hydrangea haven for my hope... 

I can never be
   Persephone,
 etching emeralds
  upon burnt caramel branches,
for, you were
  never my Hades ~
who promised me
    the clarity of crystal cuckoos,
in the orchestrating omen
    of your unfaithful underworld.
And maybe,
  I became
 one of those lost spirits,
   sketched between
   splitting symphonies of
       life and lifeless ~
  washed with dove-graphites,
  a mere  s h a d o w ,
     or an illustrated hallucination
    in my own nightmares.

So, whenever
the rust flakes fall,
ricocheting with snow ~
your presence
will be a glass prophecy
hanging with thorns
in the cage of my heart,
with no metaphor
to manipulate
  this marionette ~
cushioned
  upon raspberry relics,
 for an ending,
relishing the paranoia of petals ~
   detached from your dreams.
  
  Dear satanic prince,
could you please
  break this silence ~
staining our serenity
stitched in scarlet ?
   Is your heart
a bloodthirsty swan
swallowing
 my sun
 in its fatal attraction,
or have I inhaled
   a breath,
 rippling in
the sea of roses ~
 as the last
   feuille d'amour
  floats in your ocean of ardour,
 ceasing
    to
     chase
  the creases
      of my soul
     encased
    in you?
   
 " I shall rise
  as tangerine smoke ~
  flowing along paper-thin streaks,
where thistles are thawed
   in the perfume  of russet rings ~
  and the velveteen blanket of florets
  covers the chocolate chimes...
  synchronizing
       in the syllables
 of a destiny
         that was never 
                       meant to be..."
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