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The day bloomed cherry blossoms in winter;
Its warm fingers muted the icy grave of an ancient soul.
Tempestuous, Temptations unfulfilled;
Burst like Magnesium flares to embrace the dark horizon.
Oh! what a sweet moist imprint
Nudging -
Should it touch the soul and gift it a heart?
Burn me down to ashes!
Let the mystic dust give birth to a swallow,
With my heart and your soul caged
together in it for eternity.
Not a vow ,
but an assurance by the crimson sun of dawn.
For who does promise by the moon?
which breaks its promise every hour of the starry night!
Stay and drink the pleasure.
For if you leave -
I will turn to Pluto
And you " the Loser "
YOU ARE READING
The Secret Silence
Poetry" we are the masters of unsaid words but slaves of those who let slip out " . Poetry beholds tempestuous emotions, brooding desires that humans find it difficult to express.
