When my fears died inside my screams.

pexels-photo-458530.jpeg

 

the winged imagery
on my fragile eyes
that have seen worst storm
than my recent smoky synopsis,
died at the right curve
where my crinkles
could never reach
to romance.

yet, I tried to powder
too many lines
worth mentioning on my forehead
to make it look weak,
with fewer metaphors-
to grandeur the already dead soliloquy;

but the color on my lips
take the audience away,
the bright show stopper
arch into a killer smile
that have mastered the
skill of creating an enigma
enclosed in marble stilettos

I have walked in angles
that doesn’t bend to solve
an equation
and now that I have resumed
walking after the crash
in metered sonnets,
I have ever since raised the number
of rhinestones
on my jacket;
each a tattoo of violent hurricane
I tamed.

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3 thoughts on “When my fears died inside my screams.

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