Fading

"Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower there is no more, in the leafless root there is no less" - Ralph Waldo Emerson I'm a sunflower, dipped in honey of bittersweet bronze smiles, admiring its soulmate strolling around the sun, in sombre shine of eclipsed dawn, whilst these faes lure poisoned pollens with flaming ruby red ocean foams, And I see a peculiar patchwork on knitted canopies, which are sprouting clayey hearts out of crimson crooned willow branches. Crumbling to pixies, falling lifeless like fragile leaflets in autumnal carols, I believe, twin flame telepathy is a souvenir of roses and thorns, which emerges as wanton wildfire on the brim of ocean's moon-song in mellifluous mystery, outlining turmoil in turquoise land of trolls. For, magnetised feathers on matte lips always get soaked in ashey sighs of regret, whenever bewitching conspiracy of his amethyst eyes, befalls in dialects of forest's echoes and the brittle skin of basilisk slithers with a deadly gaze upon my mulberry heart. Chasing seasonal winds, I became the fading mist that succumbs to the sheath of amber rays, infusing in my lungs, and suffocating my love for life; Amidst these broken skies, you left shadows of pencil-sketched debris, that float like wisps of faulty daffodils, distorting my dreams and twisting thy truths, in hellfire horizon that sets our graves apart, beyond million miles of satanic soliloquies.