I breathe life
Dear me,
I breathe you
in the pulse of erased promises ~
I'm a shadow in your space
and not any voice which can be heard
above restless mists,
so, when the crystals of change mock us ~
and I am a secret siren
searing in smoked lace,
sequined with lavender sparkles,
my soul shall build an ethereal kayak
from cantaloupe pulp ~
and sail beyond those rhyming reefs,
whose refrains once abandoned
the salty syllables, raining in rhapsody...
When the north star
kisses the sea,
and the sun is
saintly blanketed
in grape-glittered gales,
my history hisses beneath
unforgiving waves ~
where grief
remains adorned
with the glistening tears
of vanilla planktons ~
and I am enchanted
by those tidal teals,
gently caressing
the gulfs of my heart.
Wearing the ocean
as a clairvoyant cape,
rivulets ribboned
upon my wrists ~
I keep rising above
revolting rainbows,
whose volatile vows
were engraved
within my necklace
of sepia-stained seashells,
each skin stoned ~
with the initials of a storm
raging within me...
as those astronomy clusters
confuse my crystal-clear conscience,
I wander within invisible intuitions,
condensed in milk-quartz meraki,
beckoning to quench
my unreasonable questionings ~
"...have the villains
of valorous victims,
always remembered
my poetic fingertips
as ferric brushstrokes,
tracing the brokenness
of a bitter-bronze mannequin ~
who has forgotten
the perfumed ivories of
those cherishing cherubs,
fluttering in her frost-sealed feathers...?"
Inhaling those
magnanimous mantras
muted by the megalomaniac moon ~
where your herbs
are seasoned with
the deceased breeze of happiness,
I have become a mirrorless face ~
as these inescapable energies
cannot chain my intentions,
by hiding the coconut canoes of purity,
beneath turquoise jewels of tulip-marines...
So, pardon me ~
if I couldn't be
the daughter of
your snake-sunrise,
trading myself for the tunes
of your selfish silence...
"O' sweet seeds of life,
I'll sow you ~
watering your visions,
armouring aquamarines
from wistful weeds ~
where your roots
can reep a halo of hope...
sequined upon kohl strings,
tied in the harp of heaven ~
I'll still paint the florets
with specks of gold and cherry,
for, there must be a kismet
in the paradise of patience,
waiting for me to unfurl
a whimsical watermelon lustre ~
drizzling dewdrops
of affection and glory,
in this land that lacks empathy..."
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2024
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