poetry for a new epoch

Ribcage Symphonies

Passion has no taste
It just burns your tongue
While fingers compose symphonies
On nameless ribcages

Black widows don’t label their pets
Other than with dull numbers
Making disappointing engagements
Worthwhile episodes of a life wasted

On selfish charity, superiority
Damage of clarity of human heart
Dwelling frightened, cracked and murky
In its fragile shell

Soul is a carton box
That implodes in heavy rain
While rays of sun in a marmalade jar
Mean a miracle, if piled up carefully

A man says he met God in the subway
What most don’t want to listen to
See, mirror is the one true friend
As it always smiles back

A horse’s eye mutely reflects old days’ glory
Unnoticed by those who just recklessly ride
Into sunset full of screaming colours
At dusk that for a change might not be followed by dawn

—————————————————–

Author: Gabriela
Creative Commons Licence

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