Pressed Flower

Her Scent Is Cocoa Roses On A Soft Breeze,
He Breathes Deeply.

Inhaling Simplicity, Ignoring Duplicity,
She Is The Rose And The Wind, She Isn’t.

He Cuts Her Throat And Displays Her,
Admiring Her In His Crystal Voice.

“see How Clever, How Witty My Flower Is? ”, He Boasts,
Pressing Her Flat Between His Words.

Truth Seeps Over His Life,
Precious Oil In A Cheap Perfume.

More Shayari by Asking A Bluebird
03 Sep 2008 No Comment

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