her presence was emphasised by scent,
that played dignity on lips and rose marks.
inspiration hit subtly
with willpower
that energised veins
and turned battery into breath.
light flirted with obscurity,
eventually winning heart of depression,
showing empty highways
to custom journeys.
-
sorrow held harpsichord strings
captive in his eyes
like the moth-candle legend,
her inspiration succumbed
to the concept of
breathe in-breathe out
for the hourglass on his desk
kept track of sand particles
gone from her
like the color of hair
-
they collected bits of gravity
from each other’s pocket, from
afar.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
two of my fav people. loved how it ended
want it
You're good.
