a Martyr’s memoir

Her lips,

a bronze ashen curve

unlike caramelized hush of lullaby

lamenting the tales

of warriors and chevaliers;

Like a roar it swirls -

at odds with her sealed smile,

Frigid, numb and metaphorically iced.

I peek in her eyes,

Those honey sweetened blend

but coated with blemishes,

lashing the rays

of unfathomable hives.

Her arms,

drumming my pulse less beats

unlike the past

striking me mildly for my playful deeds.

Tis’ day

I witness a rally of vermillion red

railing in the ducts of bitumen,

Flecks of argon mingled -

with infinite globin chains.

And hence I recite my farewell’s hymn

“In the depth of your matrix,

I grasped to breath

Under your benign stitched shawl,

I fed my feed

Today in your lap,

I mastered to sleep.”