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Death is in the flower's heart –

Why to cry for life of any petal?



Death in purple ink of weary pens

Betrays the written yearnings

On her scented paper.



Death is laughing in her cry;

Her broken heart forlorn upon the sleeve.



Death ignores the plight of any purity –

He doesn’t care or seem to be aware of

What her dewy eye desires,

For Death beckoned:



'Embrace the jar! '

And yes, she did –

For Death, of course.



After all, no other man would

Open up her hand and bid her with a kiss,

So Death became her bliss.

COMMENTS

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L0KI
15:23 Nov 28 2011

very well put dear. -applauds you-

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