The lines with tongues of flame

Are still within my sight,

The words of buried blame

Are manuscripts of fight.

 

I wasn’t meant for you

By destiny and skies,

But fatum gave a clue

And handcuffed our eyes.

 

 Evasions measured time

And distanced expectations,

And feelings made no crime,

And vanished shame at war flirtations.

 

And bleeding petals’ bloom

Was my the only gift

And stinging greedy gloom

Caressed us, bold and swift.

 

And happiness embraced

And sneaked in empty breasts,

And doomed became the blessed

And Fatal faced collapse.

 

The edge of life was mute

As silence waved good-bye,

But hearts sill kept the magic flute –

The tune would never die.