Lachrymose Lament

As the last petal falls upon trembling twigs, and the heart withers, like nocturnal stars weeping in a casket~ of ice-laced sepals, soaked in searing silence, cloaked in thistles of nothingness, let Cleopatra’s amulets dress your blurred horizon, embroidered with empty promises. I wear our forbidden love like a bleeding epitaph, inscribed with gusts of grief and twisted tendrils, emanating memories of us~ a mystical reflection of how once we danced like daffodils sipping spiced gold magic while the satanic sun burned the flickering flames of felicity within twin souls, weaving poetic pansies across the symphonic sky, brushed with Sahara crystals, unfolding a canopy of unbreakable c o m p a s s i o n ... O beloved black dahlia, if I could, I would fetch you the moon on a spoon, steal the galaxies~ wrap them in supernova serenity. I’ll paint lakes of longing with opalescent silver, sculpt Swarovski swans glazed in iridescent bliss, tempting the alluring twilight to drizzle aurora threads across mysterious silhouettes, engrossed in an ethereal orchestra. But if tomorrow these words weigh little less than the dreams we’ve dreamed in stillness, remember my soul is tied to your rain-kissed metaphors, and even if rhymes cannot fix what’s undone, these verses ache to cleanse every stain left within lifeless leaflets. For no shift in season could veil the vibrancy of vermilion still rushing through these veins, singing your name in scarred cadence, resting my quivering quill on the cusp of the cursed springs, as I embrace darkness before the dawning of dulcet wings, to lure you back to the land of timeless trinkets, a lachrymose lament~ romanticized as the requiem for bewitched orchards...