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