A Wilderness of Mirrors
The sun homes scars and flames of dusk,
drizzling a rain of illusion,
and you, the muse of angst~
tracing the cold rush of desires,
to sear my tongue,
to undress the silk of life,
spilling sweet poison upon the lens of lies,
in the afterglow of faded flora~
I taste copper and ashes
of a wistful love, blurred with tears,
amidst this heart, a wilderness of mirrors,
mimicking skies, restless and clouded~
with pale promises and silent sighs,
illustrating ghosts of reveries,
as fingers of the moon, greying yet tender,
like dying winds carrying crisp memories,
press on the keys of a hazy harmony.
But will a broken soul wade through glass-soiled sands?
I feel nothing but the wilt of wild roses,
the flow of rhymes, aching within my ink...
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