"Your pretty face____"
"Your ugly heart is already there."
Her lips did not part..
In her room, in her bed, on her side,
In her mind,
Wished she was an ant,
No ending too tragic,
Longevity means more than 90 years
Fragments of life,
And withering to no avail...
For someone to hold it and promise
A Single Life shared by millions
Destined to hell, they said..
Your Hell of Hate, sir,
You can grant her salvation, if you want,
You can grant me
freedom from occupation..
She lives elsewhere,
From the democratic Republic of your beliefs..
Fingers tempted to coil
It's too cold
For the hope in ragged coat,
For the love that drapes softly
On her beauty,
Leaving her to embrace the tint
Of that Sun,
Like Indian gold,
that very Sun that made her shudder before,
For when it glowed
She had to take off her skin
(mind you, that orange, golden tint)
And wear a glamorous dress
Lined with thorns..
Take her home,
Hold her close,
Just like you wrapped her that day,
"Tomorrow someone will hold your hand,
Tomorrow we will be gratified,
The drops will link,
The flow will start"
Touch the pearl inside her, again,
Promise him that Life
Is more than 53 years,
And death in a car crash,
(I am afraid of cars, too fast,