of cherry-red doubt
glazed over dirt
sickened stains on new white shirt
acting so hurt
nothing could never come worse
trace circles in the sand
the triangle of hands
secrets in the breeze
fate keeps baiting
wander like you’re lost
not waiting to be found
I can feel the too lively weeds
Growing from the veins of adventure
Of which keep my soul alive.
For I have been still
Far longer than I ever should
And I can feel my heart withering.
I can feel all the vibrant colors
The universe itself has painted me
Draining from my ever growing cracks.
For with every drop of vibrant life
Falling from my weakening body I can feel
The light inside my soul dying a little more.
I hear your notes of solid green.
Purple hues which writhe and teem,
on currents held within your ears.
No finite laughter, or subtle tears.
Strings quiver from your every touch.
Fingers dance in measured time.
Silently, both embraced and clutched.
Enticed with trances so divine.
Azure tints spit from the wood.
Taking stock of where we stood.
Speaking of love, lost then found.
Unaware of its resound.
I hear the tales of gloom and woe.
It's infectious touch.
With venom it's sowed .
I fear the end as tempo ebbs.
Advising sounds to take their place.
But softly you contort and blend.
Never losing tempo's pace.
I know she is not real,
Yet,I write for her;
She is a figment of my imagination,
One of my creation; And
Somewhere,Deep inside my mind,
Lies a canvas filled with her art;
A art,yet to be complete,
Where My words work like colors,
My pen acts as a brush;And
With each word I add;
She becomes real,
more and more real; And
When I will see her in real,
I will devote all this to her;
For she was the one who,
Inspired me in the first place...
The moon stared the lady
Who was hiding and crying
She was a star to slay
By the god ,may
Deserted by all
She was not good ,human call
What is truth ,what is lie
She is different her own way
Let her expressed and say
'I'm a beauty of black night ;
You're a beauty of sun'
-we may different but our
Heart is one
Life is a coloring book
We're the ones with the color palette
The first few pages
Were painted with the brightest of colors
Too much pink , lots of green , a little bit of yellow
More pages were turned
All that's left were shades of black
Mixing them aiming for white , praying for grey
But the more I tried the darker it got
Pages are being flipped so fast
All of them are pitch black
A darkness that can't be washed away
My palette can no longer be found
All that's left are buckets full of black
You are the color of a kiss,
passionate and complex;
A cold, tall glass of water
just after you've had sex
You are the color of a road trip,
with windows down and sunnies on.
The color of a love ballad,
or a fulfilling and perfect yawn
You are the color of a silk petal,
floating to the Earth,
A limited edition coin
and all that it is worth.
You are the color of adventure,
and freshly baked apple pie;
The color of snowfall on your face,
drifting down from the night sky
You are the color of paints
that stores just do not sell;
A sit-in or a marching protest,
fervent and raising hell.
You are the color of the strength
that arises with the dawn;
And when a king is overtaken
by a simple little pawn.
You are the colors found in everything:
But more than all of that combined,
a fact I must confess;
You are the color of love and life,
with all that magic you possess.