I am an undone drawing,
your lines are jagged enough they
leave an immortal scar.
I am a flower petal blanketed by decay,
only wisterias bloom in the
darkest nights of wilt,
the oxygen of sorrow
only kept drowning me,
not helping me to breathe.
Perhaps, it is true my frostbite
still aches after the past winter
lymph of distilled motion
on every freckled
snowflakes of treachery.
A cosmic flesh that always
burns is a clumsy cupid
that needs no helmet,
love is twitching on
each steps that
we took, carrying two
cups filled
with earthquakes
and you saw
how the mountains
leave their body
and kneel to you,
every air particles lost
in translation after a
tilt of such corroding
aplomb that made
'goodbyes' a phantom
sensation even if its in the
past that i already sold
my ethereal fingers
to a cross that made death
a plague with no cure,
nail these bites
on the edge of
webbed corners of
remnant supernovas,
just one sin burned
and i already found myself
in a heaven i don't deserve,
i was forced to say yes
to your 'no', to which
i draw constellations
on your burnt metal
neck of galactic
filaments
and voids.
I was built
like a rusted metal,
i called you oxidation
ever since i met you.
I tunneled in a bed
made out of your
sword of lies,
though i was not cut
once with a scar of lust.
My mother once taught me
that you need to close
your eyes to see,
and that i don't
need to be afraid
of the darkness
it holds, because
it always comes
when we've held
the light for
too long,
but, i'm still here,
sitting in a
affray of my own
wrong doings,
epicaricacy opened
a new hell for
others, kiss the
solstice goodbye
in this vernal equinox
of September's
birth of dawn,
where aubades are only
meant for the unsent
howls in the early
morning sky.
I was built like
a rusted metal,
i called love
oxidation
ever since
i tasted
its penance
poison clawing
on my purging
cassia casket.
©sarah_
J