summer seeks her soul,
blooming slowly in the ivy vines.
dead poets lick light,
curling against intrinsic oblivion.
paper hearts burning in cerulean flames;
wrong faith kills her away.
shades of rotten marigolds near her feet;
blue bones reminisce of violets against
the grief-clouded orchestra.
maybe lying wasn't wrong for the good passing men,
but moving on was;
sunflowers cry at the melon sunlight.
-swallow the midnight sun in halves
——————————————
A/N: Oh, the sun's fading away! No, it can't fade away this quickly! What happens next? Voting??
YOU ARE READING
the slow art of breathing bitter
Poetryslow dancing love and pain in the midnight chorus of liquor-washed autumn green ... || a constellation of destructive poetry ||
