One melodious strum on his guitar
sang arduously in to my heart
and with the murderous faint of his voice,
my world seemed all in motion.
…
All else was a squabble of noise
blending into the charcoaled air
His songs were etched of glasses,
cutting through thick mists of red rain.
…
I see his music swirling about my head,
ransacking another serenade’s stead;
endowing life to the ones that were dead
and the living all have gone to fled.
…
His gaze burns the veins under my skin
and bursts of a billion cries within.
every strand of my hair yearns for him
like my life siphoning out of my dream.
…
That dream where rockers and cosplayers
conquered, stripping me off my dress.
Stepping like a mile closer to his oblivion
They hail me Queen, chasing my Ascension.
…
Where he would be with the twilight
waiting for my Resurrection. And
we would sing and make love until the
breaking dawn kisses the dead of night.
…
