“I know my heart will never be the same
But I'm telling myself I'll be okay”
Sara Evans
My heart no longer
beats the same,
as I’ve wiped away
tainted tints on
vain valves.
Bleeding out
shattered dreams.
Colors of fallen
needle-shaped leaves,
emanate shades
of memories,
lost along a clamor of
fragmented pieces,
where linchen-dusted lies
confused my
flower-patterned spirit,
adrift in a pastoral
landscape of melancholy,
scumbled in roseate oil,
calligraphed from
the fragrance of
forget-me-nots,
but sunflowers no
longer bloom,
although I still
see a thread
of salvation
surfing through the
airy breeze that hides
behind green
grass across
untouched,
yet butterfly nested
water mountains.
I chose to be
content alone,
with me and my
heartbroken bliss,
over passionate
petal-like serenades,
that caressed
my midnight blues.
So, forgive the stars,
named with our love,
as I bid
farewell to half-adorned
illustrations
of a perfect sunrise,
stolen by the past
that always punished me,
with trust issues,
obscured in somber clouds
that follow my
silhouette, faithfully.
Categories:
needle shaped, angst, break up, destiny,
Form: Free verse
Love the calm in the glory of lions.
Oh, a flung continent that begs for reckons.
Volatile air, agitated flocks, and dusty fife.
Since humanity's birth, lifeblood has stirs.
The city is chaotic and bustling with life,
It disrupts the acumen, causing inner strife.
As I get closer and closer to the city bosom,
Between suitable and improper, it's rife.
Hooves on the plains drumming out a rhythm.
In the thickets of the jungle, where lions schism.
Along sacred rivers, there is nothing but space.
A nation that consumes without leaving a minim.
Mambas return to the web in quest of a large place.
To nurse at a dynamic and fluctuating pace.
My magnificent lifeblood, O priceless African green.
Excellent crocodile eyes and needle-shaped face.
Written: May 21, 2022
Categories:
needle shaped, analogy, animal, appreciation,
Form: Rubaiyat