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.
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2023
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