Be gentle,
Poetries are trying to bloom in scars.

-

She found a poem floating
In those drizzling eyes,
Held close in the Forearms of
The Tenebrous Night
&
The Tinted Ink
Finally found it's
Appetite.

-

Carry a cloud within
& Don't Rain.
Isn't my poetry
The same.

-

Like the autumn
She let go off her,
love and emotions

Only to find her spring in
Poems and proses.

-

And
Maybe one day
We all will be
our poems,
Destroying &
wounding
None.
Tearing apart No soul,
Carrying the Flaws
of Others Rendering
no Heart abandoned of
The bliss.
And
Maybe one day
We will be our poems,
Embellishing the beauty
Of the Pain & Emotions.

-

Paint a poetry, for
The Flowers are back to life.

Paint that early Spring,
Blossoming Orchards and Green
waving back at the Autumn.

Paint the evening twillight,
The melange of Dusk and Dawn
On the Canvas of life.

Paint yourself beauty,
& a new skin
to the bruises,
Paint words,
Paint Rhymes
To heal the soul.

-

I shall Carry your Love
To my Grave,
Buried within
The Blooming Flowers.

I shall Leave your Love
After My death,
Buried Within
The Realm of Words.

-

And
the barren land craved for rain,
The rain showered it's Love
Blooming Flowers.


And
the Blank page yearned for Ink,
The Ink Showered it's Love
Blooming poetry.

-

And

The pen weaved a new tale

When Feelings Embraced

The words.

-

It's beautiful,
The way you tussle to
Shine Amidst
The darkest Wounds on
Soul.

It's Sublime,
How poetry heals
Word by word,
Layer by layer
Through traumatic twillights,
To the cosmic darkness.
The Remains & fragments,
Troughs & bars.

It's Arresting,
That poems heals
Through their
Passe verses &
Obscure Rhymes.

-