Sea of Roses

My muse, a sea of weeping roses, free-flowing in tune with smoky frequencies, as storms of fear rest in the heart of a sunken canvas. I ponder~ why does the blue of the ocean roar like wrathful thunder? Why does the sun bleed searing sins? Perhaps it is in the way the earth rests in untouchable s i l e n c e, watching the trembling twigs of tormented trees, tasting the toxic tints of life, while ink still questions… Can you hear my heartbeat? I am the fragrant feather of an untamed spirit, still sprinkling stars in metallic gold across fading colors of hope, for I still see unlocked gardens above fogs of melancholy, to walk above clouds of velvety wishes. I care not for a remedy to seal these screaming s c a r s within callous crevices of narcissistic cliffs. I long to be the moon amidst the horizon that refuses to unveil the majestic crown of crystalline compassion. But what if I am an echo of a forgotten dream? Would you still love me when confused by the moving minutes, as the last petal falls~ tangled in thistles of time? Tired is this heart that aches but refuses to break, as I am more than a fleeting thought, a breathing souvenir of yesterday’s twilight… Now… I am your s k y a cradle of immortal l o v e.... surfing against the lachrymose gusts~ I dived into the cauldron of magic potion and curated a eucalyptus elixir to calm the sorrows you home, when dusk collides with doleful dawn, allowing my quill to collaborate with crimson cues of frankincense clarity.