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Silence of Thistle Truth
seasons keep m o v i n g
and s w i r l i n g
memories keep f l o w i n g
and s h i f t i n g
through pillowy puffs
of w h i r l i n g wind
carrying
singing s u n s e t s
wrapped in saffron strings
like dragonfly wings paragliding
above Himalayan hills
facing the Universe
as the Goddess of the azure..
and I listen to the
sky w h i s p e r
curvy crystalline c a r o l s
in l e a f y cadence…
will forgiving the frosted stars
allow d a h l i a dreams
in her soul to soar
amongst magnetic
moon -bows in hope
Is destiny constantly
p o u r i n g
grains of t i m e
like
s h o o t i n g gemstones,
frenziedly f l i c k e r i n g
like citrine quartz,
sprinkling f e l i c i t y
along the
intricate labyrinth
of
unrequited dreams?
she looks beyond
the o n y x sky
questioning the
spiced s i l e n c e of
thistle t r u t h
is she nothing
but a speck of
dust in the
absence of the
magnolia moon?
his voice is
beyond the scopes
of her hands
to branch through.
But like emerald-peacock
butterflies
in search of
perfumed elixir
she was captivated
by his saccharine
symphonies.
she knew
her glacéd nectars
were more than p o i s o n
to the velvety bees
without
honeyed tunes,
and the galaxy of chaos,
floating within
her lobelia eyes,
was like
electrifying l i g h t n i n g.
there’s never
a spring where
her love
can f r e e l y
s w a y
like v i o l e t wisteria
b l o w i n g
in
the wildflower w i n d
will she ever
be the only
floral leaf-
poetically pirouetting
to gusty breezes,
synchronized in
rainbow rhapsodies.
there’s no
soil to cultivate
bronze seeds
of f o r s a k e n flowers,
in his orchard of
delicate orchids,
that deserves more than rain
to illuminate golden gates,
insulating
pansies in puddles,
preserving
frozen r e f l e c t i o n s
like fuchsia fog
across a field
of “forget me nots”
that forgets
to fill lovers hearts with
musky incense,
whilst d r i f t i n g
away
into a
distinctive
dimension,
dressed in daisy wraps,
dipped in chocolate cosmos,
around honeysuckle hues.
maybe her
severed sepals
were meant to reside
as an
e b o n y stain
on a
porcelain hibiscus~
within his heart..
as unruly tales u n r a v e l
oppressed tears
of a thorn
were burdens of
night flower buds,
whilst the lunar
light befalls
upon
lyrical lawns of love,
amidst red lilies
lost in the
macabre mist
of changes..
when weeping
willows w e e p
she hopes
to be
the only
rune in his
rose reverie,
like the g l o w i n g sun
within musical eyes
of J u l i e t~
awaiting R o m e o …
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Ink Empress
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