Mistress

Poetry and love  like the rustling of wind

with an inconsistent heartbeat tempi

 

To the weave and imperfection of my

mistress, dark and twisted like root

 

Imperfection of her perfection;

a wagon of jargon is hers

 

Her lips bloody in hue

 

Her voice orchestrated in-tune to

the symphony of a phantom

 

 

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Soul

Even marble tender with

love, so why your heart

refuses I wonder

 

I marvel at the shimmering

star of the dark sky

 

The secrets behind the

sky I unravel

 

Your lips soft like the

spoken words of

a of lover

 

Moon kissed the sun

an eclipse is born,

perfect opportune to

lock lips till eternity.