the sun rises,
he left me alone
when i need him the
most, just like a poet die
when an ink needs the life to
bloom in someone's heart and bleed
the love and for some to heal the wounds.
now, the sunshine wasn't kissing me, my skin
burned of his love and my soul is burning
underneath of his breath. the skies are betraying
since he left me under the twilight sky and the stars
are craving to see, me and him as us and the gloomy nights
are exhilarated to fill my cemetery with. and the moon is in dilemma
to consign those billet doux i wrote for him from my death bed under my coffin.
of the roses
on my cadaver