Don’t let me speak O love

O dearest,wonderful love

Somewhere there;

in the sweet air of maiden spring

Pardon me,but I will speak today,

Of your innocent kisses of scorn

Don’t let me speak today,

and don’t let me cry,

But my dear,I shall speak today

until my neglected teardrops sorely dry.

O mistress of paradise,you are selfish;

as the luminous flame inveigling a moth,

You are but a sonorous perjurer;

Neat and perfect

and they let their hearts wander till stagnancy,

Among your fairy-tales of false truth.

You are embossed with the finest art

the art of elogiac sacrifices;

and all that remain behind

are just the withered vines.

You make a fugitive of one’s spirit

who drives and leads the mind into battle,

a battle for love

For it’s red petals,

to be decorated further in ceaseless drops of red,

O’ daughter of the heavens

carrier of enigmatic beauty,

You are the silent slaughterer

with an appetite for another mournful scene,

You are immaculate,you are bold

As the grains of sand and a puff of smoke;

deceiving and hard to hold.

Dreams shatter like an earthquake’s ravage

and the mind still wanders,thinking

If you would resort it someday;

in your warmest dormitory.

Yet still,you are beautiful

sharing the carnal fruit of passion,

when you yourself are,

in an undying love with your victims.

The most,

amongst all things bright and beautiful.

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