The Fragrance
The dawn is fragrant with a ruby rose,
the sunset smells as somnolent as blue
night violets... In fragrance they compose
its head and tail but heart belongs to you.
An intricate experimental prose
(not actually popular), a new
ambiguous poetry... These two compose
my blood and flesh but soul belongs to you.
An everlasting transience I chose,
a wanderlust, a hatred for a queue
and noisy neighbors... All of them compose
my worthless life but death belongs to you.
This weird sonnet came along due
to no longer I belong to you.
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