s t a r s
Light nuances of orange,
Bright I condemned.
Blue all over the palace with
hues of lucidity caressing its messiah;
Strokes. softly
She plays the harmony,
“May I sit down to your beauty?”
the bloodless veins through the sky
drools along the whites;
whites.
Gray sinks down to the ashes,
And they say it's because of her,
the air is lurking around in its blasé;
stars;
in its own hiraeth.
