It was not a random
scent, when honeysuckle
entwines the moon
in evening.
The bewitching smell under your
eyes lingers, till I kiss
it away.
It tumbles out
when the speech fails.
Still I would wake in dark.
Ah, the terror
to remain alive, under
the water of mercy.
Write me off from
the hounded list. I was
walking on the crumbling
leaves of autumn.
Emotions float on
the flames, like the syntax.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 12th, 2022 19:58
- Category: Nature
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments2
'Ah, the terror
to remain alive, under
the water of mercy.'
just pure poetic genius!
thank you, Guru
Beautiful.
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