like a bubble
My life is like a bubble now, mirage-like appears this show. The softness of her lips is close, to velvet petals of a rose. Do let your heart's eye see this world, this is but a dreamlike state unfurled. Repeatedly to her address, I go, lo, such is my distress. Your brow inscribed upon your skin, a line of poetry akin. When I spoke out, she did complain, "that derelict is here again". This heart long burnt is sorrow's hell, there is a barbecue like smell. Just as a monsoon cloud appears, these eyes of mine are full of tears. Miir, in her half-opened eyes there is the fullness of wine's heady bliss.