Pentacle of Swords
I guess I’ll cry~
a million origami stars,
watch them form
an endless sea of unwritten poems,
of how, once upon a sunrise,
you broke my igloo heart,
left me bleeding
rustic rhymes,
oblivious to the moon that
breathes within….
Sometimes there is
not enough time,
to write all these disappointments,
when life is a constant battle
between light and dark,
while I remain the
empress of the sun,
still standing my ground,
amidst the bullet-powdered dreams,
and pentacle
of seven swords,
unfolding reversed cards of
learned deception.
Yet I still hope for rising
morning jewels,
kissed with raining jasmines,
to wipe away these onyx tears,
for I’ve long been fighting
dishonest thoughts
clouding my hollow skies,
with greyest of fogs,
merged in the blackest of storms…
These woes I scribble
in zig-zag,
wishing someday, maybe,
someone would see beyond
these hazy words,
the paper-cut pain between
eclipsed metaphors.
Maybe when swirling
sapphires crack,
and twirling topaz breaks,
this aching soul shall sing,
create my own constellations,
design a cave of chalices filled
with undying chemistry.
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Ink Empress
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