In a world where I do not exist

In a world where I do not exist, stars will still glow like sequins of lilac. Nightingales would serenade hope, fields of fickleness would fade, unfolding grains of gold in bloom, cultivated with candor and calmness. The moon will be your muse, bleeding sea-snail soliloquies, breathing colors of crimson red, while twilight twinkles in sizzling streaks, like fireflies flickering fervent flares, reflecting auroras in neon blue, strewn like pink pearls of peace. There, the trickle of serene water will pass. Yet I’ll be but a mere speck of galactic sand, entombed in an onyx casket of Reaper’s promises~ unreachable and unattainable. Poetry will cease to echo like a raging radio blaring off-key, with splitting riddles of drama reverberating amplified angst within. There will be one less problem manipulating its way into deafening chaos; desperate for attention, drowning in despair and endless darkness, bringing gales of grief while the horizon barely lights up, where twisted metaphors transcribe Lilith’s mantras into kohl caves of shrieking shadows. But what is life without the sun’s fiery embrace exhaling love, in sync with the heartbeat’s hymn? When everything once written and chronicled now serves as a token of tormented tercets weeping mementos of melted misery, within the hellish grave of innocence. No longer will you be caged like a wingless eagle awaiting frost-free skies adorned with wildflower wishes, to soar and drift amidst the citrus scent of perfumed rain. Artists would create constellations of cubism~ crafting stellar romance. Illustrations of twin flames would render what could have been in a wintry fairytale, cosmically curated by raindrop angels, manifesting meadows thriving in the musical mists of tomorrow. The astral roses within your soul will sprout, believing that the gossamer beauty of butterfly brushstrokes lasts; happiness will ebb and flow in perfect rhymes. Tears will no longer drape the lunar light like lusterless diamonds. Soothing droplets of kismet spring will gently patter against amethyst valleys. There will be no unheard cries or voiceless farewells whispered in silent sighs. Silhouettes of deceased sunflowers will be a familiar remnant, and in those illusions, you might think of us— lost moments time did steal. No bruised ego will veil soulmates fated to be. And maybe then the balmy breeze will cradle you to sleep, where you and I will forever be one, like timeless candles illuminated with dahlia drizzles. For I’ll love you despite these demons~ infinitely beyond dreams and death…