Who was martyred, in the, flagrant flare
How’d know, that flippant, firefly!
Who’s smitten, with her, myth debonair
Unlike who, burnt in, love to die!
Why, unkissed lips; uncaressed breasts
Be tethered, to the, fear of ache!
There’s delusion, in skin’s, conquests
Yet redemption, in the love, we make!
Baring the, silent sighs, of shame
Whispers of sin, breach, souls’ ramparts
How faith, of passion, pain, became
In the orgy, of two, yearning hearts!
Who sowed, in life, salvation’s seed
In the heart, of joy, sin’s stain, profane
Till roses blush; nightingales bleed
Ablaze Is Love, In The Farms, Of Pain!
© 2020 Vikas Chandra