The night seeped with fog and haze,
As the bloom of darkness smothered in icy breeze chilled within the spine.
The night shall kneel before the coming dawn, for the stroke of rumbling and the tremor verbatim the heart asunder.
The silent roses scream from inner chamber kept in a personal vault, while I try to remember the tune that once allowed me to become a fluid.
I shall keep those brilliant nights tucked away at the edge of the earth, because not all was a bad experience meant to be dispersed, but cherished like a torch in a fog and haze.
For I know dawn shall lit the night anew,
And left by the spirit of moments unraveled.
Not all past has to be forgotten, nor should it be dwelled, but consumed as a scent of flower bloom.
