That springtide, was, deflowered bride
In passion’s birth, purity’s bloodbath
Hadn’t, hissing zephyr, prophesied
This wailing, widow’s, aftermath!
On my, stony heart, you had laid, and said
O’er, rustling wilds’, restless remains
“Sip sweet poison! Why not, die instead!
Free a, restive bird, from broken veins!”
So short, and sore! How apt, an adieu!
In the throes, of joy, pain’s lasting song
Who painted life, with a stain, so blue
And taught, spent hearts, to love, and long…!
I’m an ode, to love’s, unsuckled breasts
Or a, fading graffiti, on faith’s wall
Ablaze is love, in sin’s, conquests
In Remembrance Of That Lasting Fall!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra