Blue Jade
Wherever the winter falls,
upon snowflakes of a frozen saudade ~
rising from the flares
of maple-gold and copper,
I waltz in lilac lanes of petrified pigments,
imperfectly splattered by impure poppies ~
exhaling myself in a universe without you...
Somewhere in darkness,
billowing along broken curves
I feel entranced to follow
these scattered sapphire streaks
of a shattered star ~
whose curse has criminalised
me in a never-ending cage of seconds,
where grenades of grief
burst within my lungs,
wrecking every nerve
with tremors of tattooed trauma,
pulling me as fragments
in the galaxy of wisteria voids,
where I am nothing ~
but a fog of fairy-tears,
and hues of laughter
are just a myth,
lingering in the blindfolds
of fractured nightingale beliefs.
I once gave all of me,
to those four celestial letters ~
dancing hysterically
upon the hieroglyphics
of your aquamarine hyacinths,
and now fears frolicking,
have abandoned me
from revealing ruby-glazed rhymes ~
locking consciousness
in a space where —
fireflies shaking off
soothing sparkles
are threatened and
any leaf dare not serenade
in whimsical sirens,
which may synchronize
the harmony of
my heartbeats with yours,
mon amore...
How can I give you
memories to cherish,
when I am ceasing to exist,
in the creases of venus-glared wings ~
floating across the midnight palettes?
O' dear jasmine-jewelled july,
utter those moon-dove dialects
when you promised to stay with me
till the end of life ~
ferrying through forgiven fragrances
in labyrinth-white lessons.
Beneath crimson chandelier,
I'll be your Juliet longing
for my calligrapher Romeo,
as this soul is a canvas,
for his strawberry stanzas,
and in the orchard of cupid ~
his touch will be remembered,
as a kiss of sunshine,
midst a thousand tulip-honey topaz...
I fell in love
with the love I held so close ~
but it is a smoke in this moment,
and today is misplaced
in a mist of misunderstandings.
Soon, I'll be swallowed
in an eternal slumber ~
of my dreams that didn't come true,
of my rose melting in periwinkle jade...
pondering ~
are you real or just my meditated mirage?
My lips will keep shivering in sighs,
with your nameless facade,
shaped in apricot aromas,
performing rituals ~
as a slave to your silence,
for, maybe affection is just a scar,
growing wilder
than the speechless sun,
upon a marionette's Medusa spirit,
and she may remain blue,
clenched in the fist of karma ~
no monarchs of melancholy to shield her.
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2024
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