*Do not speak of flowers
burning and burning the rose
petals find a glimpse of world
right before they collapse in ash
Do not speak of your lovers
no matter who they stand opposed
if two or more, your always cold
hands never tremble nor abash
Do not speak of night
fearing each and every day
as the beams bow lower
before her curly silver touch
Do not speak of what is right
killing your spirit slowly prey
on weak minded and lost
people wanting to die too much
Do no speak of love
and her skin being ripped off
soul chained to a heavy stone
idea lost in the motionless spark
Speak do not
only the silence prepares to be
our judge as the winter paints
the icy flowers in a complete dark
And when you ask
is there anything left to talk?
My poor hard heart is dead
as is your idle flaming heart*
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 8:56 PM UTC
*Do not speak of flowers
burning and burning the rose
petals find a glimpse of world
right before they collapse in ash
Do not speak of your lovers
no matter who they stand opposed
if two or more, your always cold
hands never tremble nor abash
Do not speak of night
fearing each and every day
as the beams bow lower
before her curly silver touch
Do not speak of what is right
killing your spirit slowly prey
on weak minded and lost
people wanting to die too much
Do no speak of love
and her skin being ripped off
soul chained to a heavy stone
idea lost in the motionless spark
Speak do not
only the silence prepares to be
our judge as the winter paints
the icy flowers in a complete dark
And when you ask
is there anything left to talk?
My poor hard heart is dead
as is your idle flaming heart*
