Cease and breathe

self

Cease and breathe
the essence dripping, red like bird’s paw
emulsifying,
You are the spot, crooked and tangerine
So how do you mark your sins?

••••

Cease and count your curves,
red, pink and blues
your honey-dripping eyes,
facepalmed voice, mirrors bustling.

•••

Stand stagnant, dip into memories
you are a flower seed
A banshee of ghosts quiver
inside your language of lust
inside your pain of more and more.

•••

Cease and breathe,
with tip-toed mercury eclipse
kiss the moth
kiss and burp, your painted nails
red as nature’s love.


©image and words-MVS

#NaPoWriMo-5

You are the Art

 

Image result for art
image credits- google

During the nights of summer, I found a bowl of romance, lust in your sinking eyes. So much I read from it. I collected all my wisdom to read your bizarre words. I disclosed a few readings, read your dying cold murmurings like the lost dandelions in a silent winter night. You are a gargantuan lyric of unsaid phrase. So much to draw from you, so much to read from you. You are the Art of survival.

 

In the occurrence of solitude, first, this sunshine broke, telling your unfathomable lost emotions. I heard you still survived with a potion and lotion of memories. The concoction of sweet lips and the nectar is always as chilling as the moist air.

We regenerate from each another, sucking sagacious chants, drawing a pool of concave oblivion laughter. Oh, the touches of laughter you had with the dawn and rains in your lap. I knew you were healing steadily, like the owl lost in its precarious world.

You are as liquid as wax, undefined and countless ways of colours you produce each day. Beatific laurels of splashes of lanterns reside in your auburn smiles. I know, you are a masterpiece.

©My valiant Soul