Sea of Roses
My muse,
a sea of weeping roses,
free-flowing in tune with
smoky frequencies,
as storms of fear
rest in the heart of a sunken canvas.
I ponder~
why does the blue of the ocean
roar like wrathful thunder?
Why does the sun bleed searing sins?
Perhaps it is in the way
the earth rests in untouchable s i l e n c e,
watching the trembling twigs of
tormented trees,
tasting the toxic tints of life,
while ink still questions…
Can you hear my heartbeat?
I am the fragrant feather
of an untamed spirit,
still sprinkling stars in metallic gold
across fading colors of hope,
for I still see unlocked gardens
above fogs of melancholy,
to walk above
clouds of velvety wishes.
I care not for a remedy
to seal these screaming s c a r s
within callous crevices of narcissistic cliffs.
I long to be the moon
amidst the horizon that refuses to unveil
the majestic
crown of crystalline compassion.
But what if I am an echo of
a forgotten dream?
Would you still love me when
confused by the moving minutes,
as the last petal falls~
tangled in thistles of time?
Tired is this heart that aches
but refuses to break,
as I am more than a fleeting thought,
a breathing souvenir
of yesterday’s twilight…
Now…
I am your s k y
a cradle of immortal l o v e....
surfing against the lachrymose gusts~
I dived into the cauldron of magic potion
and curated a eucalyptus elixir
to calm the sorrows you home,
when dusk
collides with doleful dawn,
allowing my quill to collaborate
with crimson cues
of frankincense clarity.
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