Today I went to that colony,
which was called a nightshade;
whose streets were battlefields
with oceans under them and
hybrid broken alcohol bottles
like swords of the lost and dead;
Childrens with lanterns for their
eyes and their houses melting -
almost as if the disease was an intruder.
The woman, with bangles of red
and their cheeks blemished with firewood;
they cleaned the ashtrays and stripped away
their sons from love and sold of their daughters -
to men with hands covered with veins
of dead roses and bullets stuck to their tongues.
Paper planes, broken smiles, and
dying summer wind -
So much of all was crushed under the
glass pieces of the cancer stuck to
the hearts of all those who played with sunflowers.
Their houses, almost as if smiling at the
sinful sun of the god -
drowning in the saliva and stars of
urban blades but remember,
a cigarette never truly dies.
It burns inside, like
poetries and cherries stuck to my mind.
But, if they crawl out of their homes,
you'll see some wounds that even
diamonds and silk sheets cannot mend.
~Seraphina
YOU ARE READING
Ink And Echoes
Poetry♚ ❛ Juliet, Tell me what is it like to vanquish - When you tossed the coin, And stepped on the battleground, With the accent of swords. Still you stand, Hands dripping of sin. In search of Romeo, You killed, And killed, And died. ❜ { Highest rank in...
