Hope, Resurrected
The signs of passion are poker faced.
I spend my nights in deathly ardor
Digging deep into the muffled dreams
That cry for forgiveness..
I take a puff of the cigar,
And pant quietly, with tears in my eyes
The sullen kisses and the fake good-byes…
The roses dried with my breath,
I fancied love, but God forbade:
The smiles that played hide-and-seek,
Bore my frowns away..
From every stranger who touched my hand,
Promised the plight to neverland;
I mocked my pain and lived to die
In the arms of pity..
The sounds of passion were tricked to silence.
I spend my hours in muted rhythms
Searching more for the truth that lied..
And warned to conquer forgiveness
I take a sip from the liquor’s trench
And let myself go astray
Wished I had died that day..
The violins cry with my voice
I seek to change the devil’s choice
The tears that stoked my conscience
Have found its place in mystery dens
They wander to deliver the day’s omens
I mocked my pain and lived to die
In the arms of serenity
~~Thank You for the reviews and comments~~
Copyright © Iman Roy | Year Posted 2010
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