The Garden Of Aster
The Garden Of Aster
I still wear you on my skin,
For Comfort ?
I know not,
My mind,
A whirlpool of confusion.
I look ,
A landscape scattered with words,
That echoes hollow,
My feet still bleeding,
Possessed,
I had walked on thorns.
For Long,
Have I searched,
For the garden of Asters,
In our ravaged yesterday.
What was left unspoken,
I heard….
Dreams,
They bloom and perish in your glance.
By Onir