White roses drench my
Red tinted heart; poems fall
Into the silence.

Ohh, Mother,
You once carried me in you.
The first definition of HOME.

Now, you look at me,
A pearl lost its shining.
The only thing
Gives you itches to your bones
Me living up to my own!
You only see
what I wear how I speak,
You only nod,
When my feelings come to your door.
Long ago, closed, with the caveat
Of leaving the host!
Now this house doesn't feel HOME.

"Cherry blossoms never bloom,
In the months of Summer", You said,
"Once on a Summer noon
An unwanted storm knocked
On your door".

An unwanted wind whispers to her mom,
"Why?!"

In the dimly-lit room,
Half covered with light and
Half consumed by the dark,
I lit my temptation with the fervour,
Veiling beneath the deco-ed curls
Of my late night paramour's
Circled love.
A little, though not ignorant,
I noticed the curled up
Hazy dreams of mine,
Dancing on the beats
Of my tinted,
Yet, pale sighs.
Tearing my skin off,
Naked I was, plucking every damasked petals
Of my aqueous thoughts.
Listening to the unrhymed rain-drops,
Singing in a rhythmical choir,
The mockery of the rhymed clock,
Seemed lucid and clear.
I tossed my ash-tray, burning my fear,
I tripped into my perpetual nightmare;
Getting ready for the concupiscent game With Tux on my grey carcass,
With cologne on my foul breath;
On my natal bed,
Shattering my pristine waterfall,
I was ******,
I was ****** to the liminality of hell.