poem 9!! penultimate poem
A lone plane in the cerulean skies,
feverish mood of flying high
The atmosphere's cool and carefree,
Soaring as the winds rushed through me
T'was when I awoke from the whims of dreamland
And I picked the wine placed on the nightstand
I said "forgive me, stranger" as I cupped my hands
And drank from the bottle, without a single glance
Then came the downpour
Of a hailstorm, unknown
The sight of thousand needle-like ice
Showering the moonless planet of stone
Puncturing through my aching body,
Leaving nothing but bloody remains
A broken sculpture of transparency,
I have no time to play such games
Pale was the face when I realized
How your lips caressed my cheeks
This facade I maintained so gladly
Crumbling down like running creeks
To raise the black butterflies of my past
Erasing the memories of faulty decisions
My worn-down gowns from times gone fast
The doctor advised not to make any incision
As the scalpel of truth made me bleed,
crimson liquid of veritas painting me true
The anesthesia's still potent, sowing seeds
Of sunflowers shining in the shade of you
The present moment fleets so freely
The darkness of blue envelopes me so
To summarize my musings is painful, really
The message hasn't reached the beak of the crow
As the ocean delivers her final waves
As the forest sings with his evergreen voice
As I see your sullen, grief-stricken face
Nothing else matters, we didn't get the choice
YOU ARE READING
Exiled Dreamers
PoetryA collection of poems I've written. The title means we're just dreamers who have yearned of merely dreaming and shutting off everything around us. Yet the harsh reality forcefully expels us from this source of happiness of ours. My poetry encompasse...
