Ripples of Russet Rhapsodies
Dear eloquent weaver
of woes and throes,
When the last
pewter petal of weary winter
falls as piercing prose,
placing star-kissed tulips
between our
poignant poems,
rewritten with
effervescent emotions,
remember,
not every periwinkle
verse composed
from pain
is in need of
comprehension,
for your
miraculous ink
bleeds metaphors
of burning angst,
that flutters rainbow
powdered dust upon
buttercups and daisies
in my poetic pen,
bestowing assonant
vowels whirling as
fairies on
your selfless fingertips,
along fragrant flowers
in a forgotten
field of forever~
orchestrating
electrifying rhapsodies,
where nylon strings
of broken
silence thrum
magnetic moments
of soulmates.
So, allow me
to rephrase the sadness
that became
my whole sky,
repaint graphite horizons,
in silver
selenite reveries~
unraveling light
to rewrite our tale with
crimson fire across
cranberry cloud lines.
Whilst, I question
the angels of
mellow mulberry twilight,
what if love
was a thornless rose,
will I still splatter
rushing reds of
this helpless heart
across redolent canvases?
what if
lilac lilies
f l o a t i n g across
lost lakes never
forget to sprout
sonnets of sunsets?
will I see reflections
of misery I’ve inflicted,
through your eyes
that gleam in hints of
daunting dusks
endlessly within
ripples of
russet memories,
or would I be seeing
vivid fantasies of
you and I?
What if demons
that drive this vessel
change their tune?
will you still
feel the vehemence of
heat streaming
through blue-black
stars seeped in my
bruised veins?
If only
the sun can
rhyme with the moon,
maybe, cosmos
with calligraphic scriptures
of us will always sparkle~
as scintillating sapphire
gems adorned
with amethyst trinkets,
amidst the darkness that
seems more promising,
when all hope
is abandoned,
but faith lingers,
unbound to whats left
of our bittersweet reality,
for my soul,
still sings your
seraphic song,
and there’s no
music nor melody
without the
magical symphony
of your
alluring name,
because of
all the lives we lived,
this is my
favorite remedy;
glazed in
tangerine temptations
over iridescent tears.
Yours,
beloved inked stem
for a thousand
springs and more..
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Ink Empress
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