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You blew the kiss,
Knew the bliss that tulips give when the moon is lit,
But you just sit,
With a foolish lisp, bruising lips that you just bit,
In a room so dim,
As you reach for sedatives, to speak repetitive,
You seem so eloquent,
But subsist greatness, feigning speech impediments,

What for?

I've strolled in this garden on all fours,

What for?

To roam in the darkness for your aura,

What for?

This voice in my heart says that you're Lord,

Yet you want more?!?

I've chosen to embark although your gore,
Is soaking the marshes,
Leaving roses all tarnished in the folklore,
But this is a story, or rather a parable,
Of the subservient that tried to gather the berries, who,
Became unsuitable suitors,
Consumed in the madness to marry you,
When they should have let you wither,
And leave the earth gasping to carry you,
On whispers of wind,
Where the secrets are really publicised,
And the petals are your whimsical limbs,
Ripped from your ribs,
And your torso is the most fickle of stems,
You became brittle,
As if your hypocrisy isn't a sin,
This possibly signals the end,
Where your soul's devoured in the leaves,

With your beauty so easily swayed

Like flowers in the breeze…

If a picture's worth a thousand words,
I've pained a thousand pictures,
If a scream is worth a thousand dreams,
I've dreamed a thousand whispers...

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The following comments are for "Flowers In The Breeze"
by Devious

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