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halcyon days of tinted lilac; the saccharine sweetness lingering in my mouth like honeyed words.
paint this pain of nostalgia in your aureate poetry:
[ i will be your canvas, will you be mine? ]
clouds of watercolour, pigments are bleeding and so are these paint-stained fingertips that caress your tear-stained cheeks.
[ can we ever be infinite? shall we? dare we? ]
those glowing days are effervescent. and effervescent they were, just as we fizzle out along with these sparks.
those sunrises of liquid gold & sunsets of molten fire – exothermic and combusting [ just as we are? ]
but where do we find this fuel? entropy is not on our side.
your laughter is euphony to my ears, the soundtrack of elysian times i almost believed that we could rise through the fog to reach the clear empyrean, but alas did gravity root us to the dirt.
after all, here i am now: whittled down to bones, drunk on intoxicating, futile reminiscence;
clinging to the only remnant that remains – history.
