Unadorned
Without you my words are an unadorned poem. By poet.
At the edge of silence this soul screams,
unable to save the decaying flowers in her garden of deceit.
When her sadness is in love with me,
anchoring emotions weigh me down,
as cathartic metaphors reveal a labyrinth of tears.
In an unadorned monochrome world
hope floats from purple petals to ebony buds,
where a jaded heart is breathing to exist.
But If black wasn't a colour how would stars glow?
Would the marigold moon be forever invisible?
When grief is a guest how would we portray darkness?
Satan will always seduce scarlet poetry
inducing Lilith to dance in the ballroom of temptation,
where demons meet me in the wasteland of wicked souls,
but I've already drank from the fires of hell.
It's been a while since your rose darkened my garden,
so I search for pastures of poetic peace,
where idyllic dreams compose an effervescent melody.
Life is an endless journey of adversity,
I've become a king of trials,
engraving my seeds onto a tapestry of tulips.
I am my own warrior polishing a maroon mirror,
so I can sing with an orchestra of angels.
Those who judge my words,
say a rainbow will overflow into the shadows.
We are all petals of imperfection sharing the same sun,
envisioning vivid visions of verdant valleys.
My palette of poetic musings manifest
verses in revolving echoes of kaleidoscopic tones.
My blood flows through emerald ink veins,
in hues of burgundy bliss like blushed blue butterflies,
tangled in turquoise tranquillity,
yearning for serenity from a peach and rose sunset.
Destiny cries to the empress of the waves,
to adorn me in her effervescent treasure.
To kiss me in the cerulean bay of harmony,
under the shimmering of azure moonlight -
as miserable colours can only heal from her touch.
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