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Rudeneja
Her mind thinks he doesn't care.
That he doesn't notice
and he no longer feels but
his fate is a burning effigy.
kindled from his own flames
and the rain shows no mercy,
so how can he save her?
Since butterflies no longer
grace his dahlia,
he's become isolated
from silent selenophiles,
whilst 'rudeneja' sensations
plague his spirit.
Resembling indigo horizons without a moon,
a Siberian sun unable to ascend,
he's sinking - wondering if;
he was born upon the dawn of pain.
He's too afraid to weep,
knowing she cannot capture
that which falls, and she'll
let them float away,
like feathers in a storm,
but in this inner silence,
she's the tempest,
a whirlwind of lyrics -
too volatile to be sung.
When all calms, he wonders,
if the elements will show compassion,
as the breeze keeps whispering her name -
confusing his illusions.
He hopes one day there will be clarity.
To make sense of perpendicular hearts,
beating alone - abandoned upon
shores no longer kissed by the tide.
Are they losing to gain or gaining to lose?
There's a marketplace selling love,
but nothing seems sincere,
so he remains an unpurchased
gift to the world
and until his last breath,
he'll always remain an amulet,
chained upon her necklace.
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