The twilight world is a different place,
Replete with richest and unlikeliest colors,
The calm beauty of evening has such grace,
Until all is veiled under night's dark covers.
This evening's sky is heart stopping lavender,
With touches of gold near the far horizon,
The world paused for mirror dreamland luster,
As sky, sea and land, share one hue in common.
......
Wicked relief, he grieved, as he felt it leave,
'Tis his cross to bear, one cannot make him b'lieve.
In the mirror he stood, frigid, no longer chained,
A soul divided in two, one outcast; both renegade —
The wind scatters her hair,
The fragile fabric of her shirt clings to her back.
The wind attempts to push her forward,
As her crowded and crammed mind begins to retract.
Trapped in a memory,
Existing in the exhausting grasp of the past,
Her world; wrapped up in a few moments,
A box of trauma and pain that has yet to pass.
......
That heartbeat I heard, so miserably yearned–
An ear so desperate, melancholic and afeared;
Absurdity it stirred, conferred my eyes blurred–
Adversity! So perilously longing for the end ...
In frostiness of December, crystal snowflakes enthrall,
It's a month I long remember, coming after colors fall,
A season of love and magic, when hope's everywhere,
As vivid lights and twinkling stars, together fill the air!
The wind scatters her hair,
The fragile fabric of her shirt clings to her back.
The wind attempts to push her forward,
As her crowded and crammed mind begins to retract.
Trapped in a memory,
Existing in the exhausting grasp of the past,
Her world; wrapped up in a few moments,
A box of trauma and pain that has yet to pass.
......
In frostiness of December, crystal snowflakes enthrall,
It's a month I long remember, coming after colors fall,
A season of love and magic, when hope's everywhere,
As vivid lights and twinkling stars, together fill the air!
That heartbeat I heard, so miserably yearned–
An ear so desperate, melancholic and afeared;
Absurdity it stirred, conferred my eyes blurred–
Adversity! So perilously longing for the end ...
Wicked relief, he grieved, as he felt it leave,
'Tis his cross to bear, one cannot make him b'lieve.
In the mirror he stood, frigid, no longer chained,
A soul divided in two, one outcast; both renegade —
Was it you I saw in my ethereal dream?
Or was it a nightmare, haunted by my nightly fiend?
Was it you I worshipped at that broken shrine?
Or was it the devil, saying: "Leave! What is rightly mine."?