Question

The act of dancing for calloused hands,
Like sharing burnt remarks.
Love loses red to maroon,
Sense loses conscience to sensibility.

Cherries and cigarettes
We share back and forth on the roof top,
Surrounding our trough
With wilt and ash,
I try jumping into clandestine fallacies,
As you try to snare my leap.

Ashen and pigmented,

Consumed by the rust,
Corroded by their heedless decisions,
Our hands have fallen to ills such.
Likes of criminals victimized by piety,
Stand at doomed altar.



Exchanging vows at touch,
I promise to not let the stains go,
We recover Remembering the hurt,
The espionage of our ancient stories follows,
Our sins knock our doors 

Thus in lieu, our deeds falter.

Tracing stars and skylines,
Entrapped by the glory of fireworks,
We bleed of gore and glory,
Two parallel lines of conflicting intentions,
But had aligned by injury,
The lines of their fate intertwine


Thus we exist,
Like the dance of broken tears,
Falling from different eyes,
Hurt by the same cause,
Separated by negligence of each other.

~C.

Answer 1

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Answer 2

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Answer 3

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Answer 4

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