Spirit of Swan Lake
" In titanium haze of love,
truth is but a mere lie,
never unlocking gold vaults
of feelings, for,
honesty weeps somewhere
in perfumed odes of
inkless pages,
hidden in our forlorn fate..."
If twilight roses were
reincarnated angels,
they would carve
a zillion destinies
with feathered letters,
flickering beneath
butterfly glitters,
adhering glossy
wings of rosemary,
like a balm to
invisible scars
and encasing
my soul in a
hundred hues
of blood.
But, I never knew,
the secrets of
nebulous-cloaked
vengeance which
infused in
nightingale's
forevermore fortunes,
echoing eerie whispers
in elora moors of
scarlet jasmines,
at the jinx of
midnight's omen;
for thou emerged
as a lover in
ninety-nine novels,
but a guised
killer in the
farewell fantasy.
As I float by,
in the swan lake,
losing myself to thee,
I wish upon
defrosting your eyes,
that got submerged
beneath icebergs
of betraying harbinger
and bleed my soul
in frosted heart's
snow-sealed
milky ways,
as these flaked
clayey leaf
pamphlets of
sakura scents
aren't enough
to erase thy
fingerprints from this
poisoned chalice,
that sung sinful
serenades in
deadly paradise
of Eurydice
and sliced my spirit
to sooty shreds,
in this diamond dungeon
behind sage valleys.
Laced in
ash grey lies,
I'm a corpse
enveloped in
crimson croons
of confetti,
whilst lips
soak acrylic
dewdrops of
melting roses,
that once
blanketed our
eden in the
arms of heaven,
with starlit petals.
So, as Nymph,
in the orisons,
with hemlock
fused heart,
be all my sins
remembered.
For, love is a
smoke raised
with the fume
of sighs, demising
to sacrificed
meadows, where,
this kismet tale
departs in the
very ecstacy
of cradling mist,
and thus,
with disoriented
twilight's kiss, I die.
Copyright ©
Hiya Sharma
|