Well hung life's life's painting
Droplets of hope
Scattered  pages.
Leaves of fresh words
fall from poetry's summer
Love's unsung theme
Inked on chaptered scrolls,
We'll keep Shakespeare's signature;
painting mists of blissful autumn
in the sea of  our early dreams
  Shaded chrysanthemum smiles
and salty mistletoes.
We'll add the last piece;
Splashing
pretty hues of yesteryears
and ringing tones of
cradle's  laughter.
Life's colourful stress
caught in the fluffy strokes
Of breath's brushes.
In our adios
Well hung life's painting.

Im dying....
And
So Is my poetry

She was the pit
I couldn't fill.

Pilled up
Leafy  wads
Of notes
Baked with
Salty tears
And
Smoky hooks,
made soft bricks
That ached the heart

So I
stocked up
Walls of
faulty pillars,
Wolves  that gnawed
the hole.

Now I'll throw
In words,
Letters of beauty.
Bridges of rhymes
to salvage her,
The pit
I
Couldn't fill.

Fallen angels, beaten wings
Smiles faint
Thrown from high
Clouds closed, hearts droop
Life's race
Does cast stars
From lofty mountains
A loss here,
a tear there
A year here
Now nowhere
Shiny stars
Now bitten dust
Indeed
Fallen angels
Have beaten wings.

She was my music
I danced with.
Created  in life's
Endless tunes
Clothed in
Chanted rythms,

beats
Woven with
Beautiful webs
Drawn from
Ceaseless flow
Of intricate patterns
Sewn
together
By broken masks.

Thud falls!
Discord breaks.
Ecstasy  fades
Enchantment  falls
She was the music
I danced with.

Under the yellow moon,
We  spent together
Half baked lies,
Crusted
In tasty deceit.
Moans of
Beautiful hurts,
Neatly stabbed,
In words of naivety
Painted ironically.
Illusions fade!
Mind sobs.
We spent together
Lies
Under the yellow moon.