Streets of Solitude
" Misunderstood
by my own metaphors,
traversing the ivory webs
of your cunning twilight ~
which tried to mute those
feminine laments within me,
I've metamorphosed
to a colourless caterpillar,
yearning to become
an inferno of transformation,
where the chakras of spirituality
can silently etch my scars
with the meditative muse
of melancholic mimosas..."
Akin a wounded tigress,
I have wandered in your
jungle of witchcraft,
whimpering in lionhearted roars
of a wildflower,
whose phoenix potions
can never be chased by time...
for, even though
my intuition is lost
somewhere in the
fields of lonely iris ~
I'll soon meander those
vulnerable valleys
that sheltered my wishes,
from rolling off into the unseen...
Waltzing down
this labyrinth
of lachrymose feelings ~
and walking in glass heels
past this gallery of memories,
I see those faces
smiling upon me like fireflies
from those mystical murals,
as, the drizzles of my mascara
once washed away their misery ~
shielding every star
from blinking in its own blinding fate.
Perhaps, there's a cosmic carpet
knitted with a mist of magnolias ~
which will teleport me to
those bohemian meadows
longing to be cleansed,
by the nectar of orchid-pink purity...
and I'll be a buttercup bird
with a peacock crown ~
free in all five senses,
pirouetting upon pathways,
streaked through the
turquoise sands of opalescent ocean...
Strolling across
these stygian lily streets,
betrayed by the sun ~
where every inch
is a piercing reminiscence
rushing through
the raspberry veins
of my imperfect innocence,
I imagine an adventure
to those mountains galore,
draped in grape-green
floral silk, fluttering in
flamboyant fragrances ~
and purified by
the citrine shimmers
of falling sunsets...
Bowing to the
goddess of fairytales,
I gaze beyond
those gossamer horizons ~
for, I will no longer
be a pianist
playing musical riddles
with porcelain fingertips,
bereft of magic ~
this vessel of kohl and ferns
shall forever keep floating
upon a garland of gemstones ~
worn by the galaxy of jasmines.
"...either soul
should never be lost
in the ekphrasis of evils ~
rather, a saga of solitude
shall be sewn in the saplings
whose seeds have been
filtered with lotus fountains,
and sown across these
splitting stear-ways ~
which will finally lead me
to those glistening gates,
hiding the golden gardens
of my heart-shaped haven... "
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2024
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