Moonstone
Dear manipulative muse,
I have watched you calligraph your craftsmanship into oblivion.
I must say, your concoction is a wild enterprise,
Dreaming in the darkness, you have sketched me an aura of rose
From an oasis that sings a broken lullaby,
Playing chemistry with macabre metaphors.
Such a shame…
Did the bittersweet sun in your sky teach you only black and white?
Must a woman almost always be the mosaic mind?
Spare me the brain-blistering sad songs on the 1900 radio.
Now witness! Observe!
See what it means to be the dawn of pain in familiar torment,
Time stolen and a heart far beyond broken,
Dust lost beneath the hidden October embers.
Why wait for a volatile vortex?
When your indigo moonstone stirs up like a furious faucet,
Impatiently waiting to explode into the aftermath of a war?
Are you done keeping score?
Or does your pride need to see how I can walk out that door?
You are barely a quest,
You pathetic flamingo!
So get your head out of my backyard
And bury it in a forgotten graveyard.
Copyright © Lioness Onpaper | Year Posted 2024
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