Mannequin of Metaphors
When the
malevolent moon
drapes
black current vines
around my neck,
etching
the blood of betrayals
in my white-whirling wings ~
I cease to scream
in sanguine sighs
within
sangria songs
of spring
when
I would wear love in lilac
and you saw me
in metallic maroons...
as in this moment,
my skin
is but a sea of scars,
sewn with
indelible stars
of dandelion damsels,
who once lost
their art of weaving hearts
in your hoaxed arcs.
And
my agony remains,
a secret
behind
wordless wisps
of breathless vultures ~
feeding
on the seeds of intuition,
sown in cursed waters ~
illuminating
insatiable infernos
within my
tulip-tinted temperence...
But, I ache to be
an apocalypse...
more than the hellfire ink
that stains your
chauvinistic cobwebs ~
threading
volcanic spells
ushered in
a storm of sepals
beneath tattoo tears
of periwinkle promises,
for you are
a mere imposter,
stranded
in ivory silks
of snowflake silence ~
gnawing upon
the merciless
manifestations,
manipulated by this
mannequin of
metaphors...
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment