Send me a prose.
A prose about life and death.
Thoughts touching on where life lingers in my deathly soul.
A piece of heaven and a glimpse of hell.
Send me a prose.
Solely melancholy sentiment.
Grievance and sorrow, felicity and beatitudes.
Buried with these seasons, I won't find solace anymore.
Just like the Sakura, when the autumn steps.
For I've been swinging and singing in silent screams.
A scream of hope and a cry for a long lost dream.
Send me a prose.
That cries over yearning and howls about a series of sensations.
And in every heartbeat, a single mourning soul is revived.
YOU ARE READING
My Fallen Affection
Puisi#5 Wordsofwisdom #4 Writings As blissful as I should be and living with extravagant dreams, I yearn and howl for a series of sensations, and peregrinates with vivid imaginations.
