topaz loom
Original poem: https://discord.com/channels/944439929734312006/1198223816581714021
Lonely midnights,
For those with unrequited pleas
that don't matter.Set in stone her tragedy-
Tears trace the roadmaps,
Like a meandering river
Weathering her inplace of the stones.Beset in the corner,
She flows meticulously into a meddley
Of the meander bends.
On a boat crafted in silent soliloquy,
With lost oars of ecstacy and fantasy.Her hunger highlights her
place in solitary confinement-
"Wait where does the river flow then?"
In the unending hells of venus,
Into the depth of the very night that keeps her up-
Right inside the heavy expanse of the dark,
Of such intense limits of unspent fervor.She stops at the bay of the ocean,
And her energy billows away into the cold night.
Charismatic and bold,
Visibly hot yet terribly cold-
Her man never seemed to hold her hands.Her self composure decreases,
Her face contoured by anxious creases.
And as the night turns and ceases,
Her words fall into villanesque pieces.
iron herald