Parchness of the Soul

Lucid emotions,

Asking for a podium of hearts,

Enabling the viscose of nests,

Hence, the yoke of love ascends.

 

She chains her wings to halt the flight,

They flap, they tither …

Surely, want to fly.

 

The reception around her boundaries,

Weakens at the prime

She tends to mold her caricature

But alas, it costs a dime!

 Image

Butter her hands,

They have endured deserts parch.

Tingle her heart,

For the placid waters have been calm too long…

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