"What do you think an illusion is?"
"Waiting for years for someone we know would never return."
And then she vanished into
The world of dust and sorrow.
Where chaos was a sprinkle of the blood
upon the hearts that cried for dead.
Where angels weep for the torturous love
on the rotten earth of saints and sinners.
Where the songs of sinful hymns sweep
past our ragged hearts before the blackbird cries.
Their teardrops like tender knives, upon the bobbing throats
of the sprouting youth under the shadow of their eyes.
For they know, that's too a mirage of catastrophic nightmares.
-nothing's real in reality except everything you never seem to see.
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A/N: We, too, grieve for lost ones. We remain blinded in things and never wake up to reality at times. Let's tap the little star before moving on! :)
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the slow art of breathing bitter
Poetryslow dancing love and pain in the midnight chorus of liquor-washed autumn green ... || a constellation of destructive poetry ||
