It's a very strange pain
that blossoms in my heart
like a three and a quarter petal orchid
A faint scent of violet, indeed
Oh...the fragrance of a colour
changes the way my evenings feel
The walls bleed music
of a thousand years past
stories of a lute and a trombone and you
I see you humming to yourself
and the stage of the world burns
ashes clog the flow of time for eternity
You paint my thoughts
the hue of your lips
I become a muddy pool of blue
You have ink in your veins
the moon is a blank sheet of paper
Love...an inevitable piece of poetry
that blossoms in my heart
like a three and a quarter petal orchid
A faint scent of violet, indeed
Oh...the fragrance of a colour
changes the way my evenings feel
The walls bleed music
of a thousand years past
stories of a lute and a trombone and you
I see you humming to yourself
and the stage of the world burns
ashes clog the flow of time for eternity
You paint my thoughts
the hue of your lips
I become a muddy pool of blue
You have ink in your veins
the moon is a blank sheet of paper
Love...an inevitable piece of poetry
1 comment:
Hmm... good one.
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