الجمعة، مارس 16

(A Flame of Gold (by Amira Ali Hassan Ali Abdullah

She was
Under my finger tips.
Skin richer than velvet
Softer than watered silk.
Her words;
The breeze that blows from Elysium,
Her taste sweet,
But yet sour;
Like life,
Mother Nature herself.
Every sweet thing has a bitter end.

The flame died,
You pulled away from me
You hid away in your sacred garments
And went back to reside in the temple of pretence.

هناك تعليق واحد:

  1. what a call to the elusive nature of life and how sometimes u feel like having grassped its true meaning, experienced and seen it for what it is. Then at that very same moment when u realize that life is built on pretences and how that epiphany is in fact an illusion since life is not that simple to figure out.
    Bravo Miss Ali
    Let the flame burn bright and burn away the garments of pretence

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