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435 · Aug 2017
Untitled xx
Lucilo Aug 2017
Gravity could have only sworn the feathers of lovebirds were loyalty-interwoven,

Until betrayal gifts of loosened cords and feathers of wings were unearthed deep in the heart of a nest craft she built for him;

Dismantled was his soul and spirit  a termination of hope; of love and affair;

A resurrection of despair and reformed cruelty.

Spiteful and vengeful; descending from infinity was a stampede of a voice reborn and a soul shattered, echoing the forthcomings of the storms:

"Oh, love, redeem me. What a lovely gift this is, I shall find a way to repay you!"
For love some shall avenge!
339 · Aug 2017
Untitled
Lucilo Aug 2017
This is the story of a singular.
A story of a loner; stoner, a solitary lover
An isolated dreamer that sleeps with thoughts of a **** killer
This is the story of the smile stealer; grin eater; mood killer, sadness keeper
He is the self-professed love-hater.

This is the story of the secret admirer whose iron heart is filled with empty desires.
A womanizer who appears to the blind as a pure semblance of an ideal lover.
This is the story about a game-changer; king-maker
The story of a feminine murderer who shall smolder your rapture and abandon you bitter

This is a story about a man
A man who once fatally feebly fell in the fingertips of a felicitous femme fatale
Fragile
He fell unreciprocated love to a lass whose response was a heart-ravaging silence whenever the dishes brought to the table.

"It's unsaleable. I am unavailable", with fear she opined.
"But it's unstoppable ", inconsolably he uttered. "And I'm capable to unscramble your wounded soul a path for love invariable".

"We rather not go out on the limb", she sighed. "See, intermingled feelings are not tangible And when one because the other she whines and weeps; salt shall ascend upon the other
Will you not be unable?".
Little did she know of his hematite tenderness. Unbreakable!
A metamorphosis of no good.
240 · Oct 2017
Confession 16 of 3/17
Lucilo Oct 2017
"..and so I manifested a pigmentation of my own imagination of security and called it love; lost.

And then I drenched deeply the wings of my heart and the feathers of my soul into an empty space of nothingness...

Until nothing became nothing."
Inside a poet: dismantled

— The End —