The Aquarian man with the opal heart.
He is what winter leaves.
He becomes my spring.
Washing out my trail of heart pieces.
He breezes through with no reason.
His zany smile delves through my barriers.
He is now my opal carrier.
Opallios, Opallios!
He changes my colors!
Couldn't have been any other,
Only the Aquarian lover.
So patronus, I was chosen,
To drink from his pail of devotion.
He molds my amorphous soul perfectly in his palm.
My fate becomes embalmed.
The opal heart of the Aquarian man.
It was then that our story began.
YOU ARE READING
Unniched.
Poetry"Unniched" is not bound by themes or constraints; rather, it thrives in the randomness of inspiration. These poems are a mosaic of emotions, thoughts, and observations, woven together by the thread of randomness that knows no boundaries. As you flip...
