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.