A Life Not Lived
Philanthropic phrases of pluto sink
In my soul, a slave of lonely black
Charade, whilst butterflies flutter
In bruised heart, as pressed flowers
Grieve in between snowflake-
Pages of swan's fogged
Diary; I
Crawl upon
valleys
To
Touch
The peach
Arc of the
Sun and kiss the
Skin of polished blue
Crescent, but I drown in
Sapphire waves and garnet flames,
Carving artificial blood on
Nymph's ruby rocks; who will remember
The parched floral thoughts of a life not lived?
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2023
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